


Among The Waste

by avyssoseleison



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Post-Nuclear War, Claiming, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, John Being an Asshole, Knotting, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Mpreg, Omega Dean, Slurs, True Mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:23:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avyssoseleison/pseuds/avyssoseleison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sure, life in the Wastelands ain't exactly a cakewalk, though that's to be expected just 200 years after the detonation of a couple of a-bombs and the destruction of the biggest parts of the world. But things look up, for the Winchesters at least, because they are about to gain the influential Novaks as their allies, finally receiving help in their hunt for the bastard who killed their mother. Dean becoming the Novak's Alpha's bitch seems like a fair price to pay, if it just weren't for the fact that he falls head over heels for his true mate the moment he has to bow down in front the man he will actually be bound to for life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Dreamt Of Stars, And Of Skin, And Of The End Of The World

**Author's Note:**

> As you will notice, I'm not a native speaker of English. Which means that I will use weird expressions and even weirder syntax (feel free to correct me), and all of this will generally be a great big mess, linguistically and logically and especially emotionally-- I got a storyboard, though, so let's go!

Dean probably would have minded the bleak outlook of boulders and dead grass that stretched out in front of him if it weren't for the starry sky above him. Of course, a clear night sky wasn't that uncommon — it was actually pretty normal around here — but these last few weeks, he had spent most of the nights within some kind of cave or entirely knocked out, so there hadn't really been a way to admire the stars. Moreover, if he would've told John that he wanted to leave the security of their shelters to stand out in the open and look up, he would've had to deal with more than simple embarrassment upon this admission, especially if John were drunk or pissed off.

Either way, Dean was really thankful for the clear night.

He kind of would've imagined a storm brewing in the distance or something equally as cliched as it always happened in those books Sammy read — Dean never would admit to stealing them in secret and reading them himself —, so maybe, this was a good sign. It might have meant that what they were about to do was right, that it would finally get them closer to their goal and that everything might be okay in the end.

Which would've been some kind of miracle in itself, because when was ever everything okay in the Wastelands? Since 200 years ago, when the Doomsday Machine partly had went off and killed every living being on the other side of the globe and a fair share of beings even around here — which was still lucky, because it was ought to extinguish absolutely every living organism on the face of earth —, nothing was okay. Those people who had been fast enough to run went to live underground, and only for some years now did they start crawling back to the surface to inhabit this hostile environment again. There were quite some settlements or actual towns out there again by now, though the Winchesters still preferred to set up their camp in the Wastelands. It was dangerous, surely, but John didn't trust those other humans — or what you'd call them nowadays — and he was very apt at killing the other deformed creatures and animals roaming the Wastelands alongside them. Also, John always talked about how no Winchester ever went underground, and how they survived the Doomsday Machine without so much as batting an eye, which meant that there was no way they'd start relying on other people now.

Dean didn't know how much about the Winchesters never fleeing underground was to be taken at face value, but about the part where they never relied on other people, he knew that his was not entirely true, because they were actually on their way to get help from other people that very moment, but Dean never pointed it out. Sam, that kid with no proper respect, occasionally did, but before a real fight could've ensued, Dean or Adam or even Jess, Sam's partner and a fellow hunter, always broke it up. Sometimes, John got drunk and angry afterwards but Dean knew that he had a lot on his plate, so he was fine to deal with his enraged tirades and his harsh words towards his eldest son. It _was_ Dean's job to keep Sam in line, so it was only right.

John had become somewhat more soothed within the last few weeks, though. Since he had set up the conditions of a deal with Michael Novak, the Alpha of the Novak Clan that possessed substantial influence and allies all over the Wastelands — and the Winchesters were on their way to become one of those allies. With the help of Dean.

He smiled.

Finally they were able to take a real shot at that bastard that killed their mother, make those two decades of hunting him count, and Dean could keep his brothers and Jess and his father safe and sound, so that they could finally be happy and free without any constrictions. Maybe Sam could actually be a scholar, like he wanted to be since he was a little kid but never dared to utter to John. And the price for all that was so meagre that it was almost laughable: Dean, one of the only Omegas known to be left in the Wastelands, had to become Michael's mate for life.

 *

"Don't speak until spoken to."

"Yes, sir."

"If you have to answer a question, make your reply short and precise. No sass."

"Yes, sir."

"If anyone of the Novaks wants to touch your body or examine you or anything at all, you obey."

"…yes, sir."

"Present yourself in a _proper_ way — not like, you know how." He wagged his free hand while simultaneously adjusting his grip on his horse's bridle with the other one.

Dean blushed, half in fury, half in embarrassment. "Yes, sir. I know, sir."

"Dad!" Sam exclaimed, already outraged. "What the hell?"

John huffed and looked behind himself at Sam, shaking his head. "You, Adam and Jessica are to be silent the whole time. If you are getting approached with any question, I will answer for you. Better yet, try to be not even get noticed."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Don't worry, Dad, I'll try to have to do as little as possible with this whole thing. You know I'm only coming along for Dean, not because you asked me to."

"I never asked you to."

"Exactly."

"So that's how you give thanks to your father who raised you, taught you everything you need to know, and to your elder brother? Maybe you should start being a bit more grateful to your old man, and I know you won't be able to help but do so when you can reap the sows of this deal we're making."

"If anything, I'd only ever be grateful towards _Dean_ , not you. Not only did he raise me, but now he is even going so far as to sacrifice himself for your obsessed crap you dragged us through since we were kids!"

"Sammy!" Dean exclaimed, and he was torn between anger, because that was really no way to talk to your father, and some flustered pride.

"Sam," came the placating voice from the end of the group, where Jess and Adam tended to stay, especially these days, probably to avoid all of those little fights. "We are almost there, maybe we should calm ourselves and concentrate on the task at hand. It was a long ride and we are all strung-out in many ways, but we can rest in just a bit."

John grunted in consent, because really, standing in front of the Novak Clan with a red head and clenched fists wouldn't do their deal much good. Dean smirked, proud of his sister-in-law, because she always managed to step in at the right time and help everyone to get their shit together if it was necessary. Though more than often, she rolled her eyes and went to kill some time — or animals — with Adam in tow if the fights reached critically pathetic levels.

But she was also right about them being exhausted. Within the last weeks, John had managed to come up with the idea to become allies with the Novaks, contacted them, negotiated some prior conditions which were to be fulfilled in general — such as Dean becoming Michael's mate and them helping them in the Winchesters search — and some minor subitems which were to be be further discussed once they'd reached their compound. Those were of no real importance, though, because the only thing that actually mattered was already clear; to make a small sacrifice more or less wouldn't matter. Dean was already aware that he'd be nothing but a breeder until the rest of his days, and he was okay with this, so there was not much he thought of that could inconvenience him much further.

He couldn't really remember his mother that much anymore — he had only been four when she died, after all — but what he still knew of her and all the stuff John told about her made it very much clear that her death had to be avenged. So now, twenty years later, even in the dusty and dead Wastelands, it was still of great importance to cherish every single life. Probably now even more so. And everyone who, for what reason they might have done it, even thought of killing of someone as pure-hearted as Mary Winchester deserved to be hunted down and being brought to justice. No matter the cost.

Dean confirmed his thoughts grimly in his head, but the shadow that suddenly surfaced from the bare land in front of them caught his attention. With every step their horses took, they drew closer and closer, and Dean was finally able to recognize the shadow as their destination — the Novak's manor. Well, it wasn't so much a manor as some kind of castle with some settlements splattered right at its bottom. It's said that some weird man who lived before the Doomsday dreamt of the other side of the world and its buildings and had this castle thus be built in the imagine of castles up in the mountains and with beautiful décor. It had been sturdy enough to stand the test of time, so maybe that man has had a point, in some way. He was sure as hell dead now, though, and the Novaks ruled the nearby and far away Wastelands around it. At least, so to say. There was nothing like a government the people used to have in the Old Days, it was more that the Novaks were the ones to have a say because they were in possession of valuable goods and their trading terms seemed fair so that everyone accepted them so, which made them rise to power. They also had access to all of the main information network on the continent, which might have been the most important good of them all.

To the Winchesters, at least.

That is to say, Dean still felt a slight tinge of awe as they got closer; there were not many actual and huge buildings around anymore, so it was always impressive to come across one that leaning towards the sky and was not just made of corrugated iron. It must've been warm and safe in there when night fell.

"This the Novak's manor?" Dean tried to affirm.

"It is. I was never here before, but the location must be correct and all of the people we've passed the last few days said so as well; there's no building like this around here."

"It's… big."

John snorted. "Maybe let me answer the questions for you, too, Dean."

Dean grumbled but didn't reply — he knew he was never considered particularly smart or eloquent, and he thought so himself, but this was still just the awe making him talk stupid.

They came nearer to the closed gates of the settlement around the manor and were greeted by a figure upon it.

"Who are you?" screamed a person with a rather high-pitched voice from up there.

"The Winchesters," John answered gruffly. "We are here to meet Michael Novak. He knows about us and we have told we'd arrive some time around these days."

"The Winchesters," the caller echoed in thought. "Ah, yes, you _are_ on the list. Guys, open the door! And welcome to the Novak's manor, Mr. Winchester and followers."

Maybe calling him a follower was not that far from the truth, Dean thought to himself as they waited for the gates to open enough for them to ride through. Since he was a little child, there was no other that than that he wanted to fit into his father's footsteps and that, in order to do so, he'd have to take that exact path John took. Because if Dean didn't watch his every step or stray too far from the path, he'd never be a man like John, which is why he followed him as close as he was allowed to. He did what he was asked to, always striving to one day be an equal to his father. He wasn't always sure that he could do that, but he had to try at least. He was already an Omega instead of an Alpha, like Sammy and his father were, — Adam was what they would have called a Beta perhaps, Jess didn't possess those rare traits, like most of the population didn't as well —, which meant that he'd have to do his utmost to not end up a bitch. Or well, he tried not to be one as long as he couldn't help it, seeing as the end result of their trip would bring on exactly this.

Dean swallowed the heavy lump in his throat. He had always known that as long as he obeyed John, he would become like him one thankful day. But now that he thought about it, if he did just as he said, followed his plan with the Novaks, there was no way he was not just reduced to being an Omega in the end, was there? He would be a breeder, a bitch, something weak and wet and writhing, but surely not a proud man like John. Dean never considered himself that different from his father and brother because of his designation — and they barely ever met anyone who would've been able to scent them so he never had any strong feelings about being an Omega, never would have used a word like bitch until a couple of weeks ago —, but if they followed through with their plan, he would have to stop hunting, instead stay at the Novak's manor and be pregnant and pregnant again in order to further the Clan's offspring and their influence. In a world with so few people and especially so few ones who still possessed animalistic traits, to have someone like Dean was priceless. But still, that was all he would be. No matter how strong and fast he was, no matter how good he could hold himself in a fight, his reproductive system would be all that was left of him.

Dean hastily blinked his eyes, shook his head and wanted to laugh at himself. No, no, he had to have faith in John. He had to do whatever John saw fit — everything would play out in the end just fine. There were more important things than Dean whining about his dignity or whatever. No one probably even thought of his Omega existence and future like he did.

Just when they rode through the gates, Dean caught the faint whiff of some sweet scent that vanished just as sudden as it emerged. He tried to angle his head the direction it might have come from, but there were too many human smells all around him, drowning out that lovely one. Dean wrinkled his nose. Maybe he his imagination was running wild with the stress and the thought of reaching their lives' goal in reach. He should get himself together if he wanted to step in front of Michael Novak in just a couple of hours.

"Dean, hurry up!" John's voice was further away than he thought it should be. He probably really should have gotten a move on.

 *

The manor's corridors might originally have been made out of bricks, but they were cladded with corrugated iron sheets now, presumably because it was impossible to properly restore an old building without the needed supplies. They had tried to decorate the iron sheets, though, with paintings and curtains, so it didn't even look half bad. Even if they wouldn't have done so, they still had the biggest and nicest house around here, maybe even on the whole continent, anyway.

Also, in the whole of the building, the sweet scent Dean had first perceived when they entered through the gates was unbelievably prevalent. Traces of it could be found in all of the main corridors the Winchesters were led through, it was conglomerated in some places they were not allowed to enter, and it by itself made this place the most beautiful and welcoming one on earth.

Sam didn't seem to agree when Dean approached him with a blissed-out look upon his face. "Dude, ain't this the greatest smell ever?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"This smell. This, I don't know, sweet scent. I don't know what those Novaks are using to perfume their rooms or whatever, but damn is it ever worth it."

With some confusion in his features, Sam took a deep breath.

"Well? Finally taking a whiff of it, Sammy?" He grinned.

Yet Sam just shrugged and frowned a bit. "There are a lot of smells in here, but I wouldn't describe one of them as particularly pleasant. Actually, some are slightly repugnant."

" _Repugnant?_ Are you out of your mind?"

Sam shrugged again. "I'm just saying, Dean. I don't know what you're talking about, sorry."

"Whatever."

Maybe he was somewhat irritated that Sam called the scents in here repugnant, but he couldn't help it. Of course, everyone's senses picked up and processed different stuff, but your nose had to be really messed up to think of this of anything but the greatest fucking scent ever.

"Where are the others anyway?" Dean asked.

"Jess and Adam wanted to refresh themselves or something before we meet the Novaks. But they should be here in a minute."

"Since when is either of them one to pretty themselves up?"

"Maybe you should've done so as well, Dean, you look quite grimy."

"I look like a hunter is supposed to look like."

"You know you're not here in a position as a hunter," Sam said, quietly.

Dean shot him a look. "Not _just_ as a hunter maybe. My part of the deal still serves our purposes for the hunt."

Sam sighed. It was an old discussion by now. "It just serves Dad's purposes, Dean."

"So what? Dad is a hunter, I am a hunter, makes this part of our hunt."

Visibly unhappy with his words, Sam grunted. "You know you don't have to do this, don't you? You can still say no, still get out of all of this and live your own life. But if you go through these doors and tell the Novaks, no, _pledge_ to the Novaks that you'll be their possession until you die just so Dad can have his revenge for something that happened twenty years ago, you won't simply get out of the deal once you realize what kinda bullshit it really is. From all I've read, I know that being actually mated to someone means that there will be no other person for you, ever again. And if you lose your mate, well… you know how Dad turned out."

Dean snorted derisively. "Mum and Dad were not _mates_ , Sam, because Mum didn't have the right equipment for that. You know that. And don't ever call her death 'something that happened twenty years ago', because although you might not remember her, I do. She deserved better, way better. And really, you'd think I'm old enough to make my own decisions. I have figured what this is all about and what it entails, so please spare me your 'You don't know what you're getting into' crap — I know damn well what I do. What has to be done. Which is why I'd appreciate if you could finally stop bringing this shit up and just roll with it. You think if we'd just strolled out the door and go 'Oh no, you're not gonna get what you were after for longer than you even knew about the Winchesters', they'd let us? Let go the only Omega they probably knew about since fuck when? Everyone knows they were after an Omega for fucking _years_ — that's what Dad picked up on. They won't let us, let me, just walk away. Wake up, Sammy, the deal is already done."

The emotions of Sam's face might have been pain or anger or resignation or the final realization that his elder brother was an asshat, but it didn't matter. Not just because John, Jess an Adam's voices finally could be heard coming downstairs, but because Dean knew he was right; there was already no way out of this anymore. And if there was, he wouldn't have wanted it. Sam would be thanking him once all of this was over and tell him he was right all along, so Dean could deal with his attitude right now without a problem.

Sam took a last glance at him. "Still. You're my brother. Just say so, and I'll do whatever I can do to help you. I really do mean it, Dean. I just want you to be happy."

Dean snorted again, but it lacked the former sneer — damn the warmth in his chest because of this kid's words. "I know, I know. And I appreciate it. But don't worry and just let me do my thing."

"Dean."

He made out the faint movement of a head shake in his peripheral vision, but just focused on the oncoming trio. "All done?"

"Yeah," Adam replied. To Dean, he didn't even look much cleaner than before. Then again, that boy always looked like just dragged through hell.

"Stand straight," John commanded in passing, nodding to one of the guards who had kept their distance before. "We are ready to be brought to Mr. Novak."

The guard nodded and signalled them to follow her down one of the iron-clad corridors. She kept her steps slow and elegant while the Winchesters and Jess — who always considered herself part of the family but never wanted to take up the name for herself, and Sam was too strongly embedded in the thoughts of being a Winchester to be the one to change his surname — strode down behind her.

John was busy mumbling some more commands, such as how they should address the Novaks, how to hold themselves and to remember not to speak unless absolutely necessary, but Dean was not listening. He knew everything already anyway, but even if he didn't, he would've been unable to concentrate on anything but the scent he had tried to not further think about when his discussion with Sam hit a darker note, but now it not just reoccurred, it actually seemed stronger than before. With every step, it seemed, even, grew it stronger, and Dean felt all of his nerves to stand on a pleasant yet anxious edge, felt his body go taunt and _ready_ , and it took him all of his willpower to breathe easily instead of starting to pant right in front of everyone.

Also, he fought to keep down the heat that crawled over the whole expanse of his skin and deep below it, into his most delicate depths until he feared he might be on the edge of producing some slick in reaction to the scent, and _what the fuck was going on._

A deep longing — one he looked at with apprehension yet adoration — imbued itself deep inside of him.

He knew he couldn't let go of this feeling ever again.

He needed to know where that scent came from. He needed, he needed, he _needed so much_.

Dean almost whimpered as the guard stopped in front of yet another gate, although this one was considerably smaller than the one in front of the manor and its settlements, and she knocked three long and hard times. There were steps and voices to be heard from behind the gate, and just a couple of seconds later, someone from the inside started to slowly drag them open.

That sweet, lovely smell whipped Dean right in the face the moment the huge doors were being forced open, and it became clear that the source of it had to be present in the hall — Dean was finally, _finally_ meeting whoever had a scent so unbearable that he wouldn't have minded stripping bare in front of the one emitting it, and admitting all his deepest and darkest fears and secrets and loves right in front of them, and he knew these would be accepted and cradled with adoration, and there would be nothing but happiness along the way if only he got to spend his life by this person's side.

A dark-haired man with a slight smirk and an aura of elegance and arrogance rose from his throne-like chair, and he was, without a doubt, Michael. But Dean was only able to regard him for a split second because he instantly knew that it was simply impossible that he was that scent's source, so his gaze frantically searched the room, roved over the nondescript faces of the people approaching them flew by, unseen, until it fell upon another dark-haired man who stood frozen in the half-light of the shadows.

His achingly beautiful, blue eyes stared back at Dean and his flawless features were twisted with the same kind of shock that befell Dean once he was finally able to lay his eyes upon him and _see_. Dean was absolutely taken aback. There was not a single doubt in his mind that this gorgeous, this all-encompassing and forever worthwhile creature with a smell so irresistible felt exactly the same kind of homecoming and safety, of longing and finding something you never knew you were looking for, of a final and endless love as Dean did, because everything he felt, everything he hoped for, he could see on this man's face mirrored back at him.

Michael, in his vacant splendour, stepped towards them, and Dean could have wept.

Michael was not the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

Michael was not the one he wanted to be held and kissed by.

Michael was not his true mate.

 


	2. The First Day Of Spring

Yeah, so this wasn't exactly what he had expected when they had been on their way to the Novak's manor. In fact, it hadn't even been what he had expected after he arrived, after he had spent some hours on the compound and even when they started their way to the hall they were in right now. Because this was nothing he _ever_ , in his whole life, would have expected. Sure, Sam had been studying the intricacies of their animalistic traits for years now, which was why Dean knew about stuff like why he was all hot and bothered every few months, why he was able to get wet like a woman, what the deal was with mates and all that jazz, but he outright laughed when Sam first started bringing up stuff like true mates. Hell, it sounded like something out of a fairytale, like something made up by some poor romantic bastard who couldn't otherwise get someone to get between the sheets with, but nothing that would actually — like _come on_ — happen in real life. Especially not to Dean.

But here he was, completely frozen in place and staring at some stranger he already knew he could and would love until the end of time.

That was really messed up, but he couldn't give a damn. Nothing was of interest now, nothing but his true mate, who was way too far away from him and way too close at the same time, because fucking hell, this whole room was stuffed with Alpha smells, but his was the one that dominated all of Dean's senses and made him weak in the knees.

"Ah, Mr. Winchester, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Michael's voice brought him back out of his stupor.

"Mr. Novak," John replied, not as gruffly as he usually was but still gruff enough. Dean wasn't all that sure whether his father was actually capable of speaking in a pleasant, courteous way. Most likely not.

They shook hands and swapped business-like smiles as well as some pleasantries about how the Winchesters found their way and about how impressive the manor was. After a couple of sentences, Michael finally seemed to take notice of the other people — or at least Dean because he still ignored the rest of the Winchester family — and considered him with an appraising look.

"And you must be the Omega. Such a rarity! I never met one before, not on any of my travels; it's so good to have you." He never lost his business expression and stretched out his hand towards Dean who took it with a forced smile and grated teeth.

"Thanks." He wanted to punch him in the face. His true mate obviously as well because his features were distorted into a scowl.

With Michael being an Alpha, Dean probably should have liked the little bit of physical contact the handshake brought, but Dean just felt repelled. Maybe this wouldn't have been as much as the case if he didn't know what was wrong with the touch and with whom he'd actually like to make skin contact with.

"Those two behind me are Anna and Castiel, my younger siblings. My other brothers and sisters are not present at the time, I'm afraid, but I wanted you and the Omega to meet at least some of my family members."

The one who must have been Anna stepped forward and smiled the most sincere smile out of the ones within the last few minutes. She was beautiful, with flaming red hair and huge eyes, and despite her rather waifish appearance, she held herself with an elegance and composure that made clear that if you ever crossed her, the one to suffer in the end would not be her. She was mesmerizing, and any other day, Dean probably would have tried to chat her up, but now he felt nothing but a slight tinge of awe and an appreciation for her because she seemed different from Michael, in what could only be a good sign.

Probably being the older one out of the two, she shook hands with John and Dean before Castiel even managed to make his wooden way towards them, and she also nodded towards Jessica, Sam and Adam, mouthing a friendly greeting.

Then it was Castiel's — and what kind of name was that? — turn to shake hands. Castiel mumbled some greeting to John and then turned to Dean, hesitating for a moment, until he extended his hand in a welcome offering.

"Castiel," he introduced himself unnecessarily, and _what the fuck_ was with his voice? Couldn't Dean even be spared the humiliation of coming in his pants just because someone had the sexiest fucking voice ever?

He gulped and took his hand with only a slight delay. Heat, the kind he never knew of before, crawled up his arm and beneath his skin at the first, and before he himself could do so to seek out more of it, Castiel's grip became unbelievably tight.

Dean gripped back, his mouth slightly open and his complexion flushed, staring back into Castiel's face that was just as bewildered by the closeness and the actual physical contact as his own.

"Dean," he replied, belated.

It was insane and slightly embarrassing. But mostly, it just felt really, really good to touch him. The feelings of safety and want ran through him.

Both Dean's and Castiel's corners of their mouths slightly tilted up.

Their handshake already extended far beyond what was deemed appropriate time-wise, but Dean desperately didn't want to let go. His grip got even tighter, the need to be close, to be one with Castiel, was so strong that he could almost taste it in the air.

Actually, he was able to taste something else in the air; a faint heady scent exuded from the man in front of him, and a slight blush crept up his cheeks. Uh-oh.

Dean almost jumped away from him and hastily retracted his hand, laughing awkwardly.

Michael's face was unfazed by anything, just like before, and he nodded to himself and then to John as he picked up the topic of some kind of bullshit Dean really couldn't give a damn about right now, it was probably about their hunt or the fucking weather, as he vehemently looked to the ground.

Then, he could feel himself leaking.

 _Of course._ This was exactly what he needed right now.

Dean only hoped that if they noticed his slick — and he was fairly sure they did because there was no way they wouldn't — they'd just attribute it to him being a Omega in general, calling it a natural reaction to being in a room full of unfamiliar Alphas — which was what they'd probably think about themselves in turn as well, especially of Castiel, though Dean wasn't sure whether the Michael or Anna were, too, affected by the Omega, and he really didn't want to sniff the air to find out —, instead of, y'know, them becoming aware of the hormonal and mental and emotional fuckfest he was diving right into. He'd guess they were too polite to point it out, anyway, and would have kept their blank facial expressions and postures no matter what. That is, all of them except for Cas, who might have been able to keep his face mostly unaffected by Dean's slick safe for the blush, but his whole body went completely rigid in an obvious attempt to stay where he was, keep his hands to himself and not just jump Dean right there. It was charming, in a way. It was also complete torture, because all Dean wanted in that very moment was to have Castiel give up even just the slightest bit of self-control, subsequently lose all of his composure the second he did so, and take Dean as hard and as deep as he could, with that asshole of an untrue mate Michael watching them and seeing that there was no way Dean would ever want to be fucked or bred or loved by him.

Shit, he really shouldn't think about that kind of stuff if he wanted to keep the slick from producing. It was as if he could already see the self-satisfied grin both him and Castiel would have on their faces if Castiel would just go ahead and fuck him.

Deep breaths, he had to take deep breaths. If Castiel was able to control himself, then so was Dean. He had to ignore the heat and the arousal and the ache he felt because he was denied from embracing his mate.

Under great efforts, Dean peeled away his gaze from Castiel — though Castiel didn't, he just kept gaping at him, and _way to be subtle there_ — and turned it to his father and Michael, who both didn't even have noticed his lack of awareness. Instead, they were engorged in a talk about the most recent news about phenomena that might have had some correlation to Yellow-Eyes. It seemed like Michael knew more than Dean had expected.

"Of course, our preliminary discussions still hold true. As you informed me of your arrival these days, I have already prepared everything for your travels; you may head out any time you like," Michael said.

"We want to get going as soon as possible."

"Yes, I understand. When would you see fit?"

John contemplated this for a moment. "Tomorrow?"

Michael smiled. "You are welcome to rest some more at our manor if you want to. If you still need a few more days after your travel here, I'd completely understand. Otherwise, yes, tomorrow would be very well possible."

"Really? Not on too short notice?"

"No, it's really not. In fact, it would be also in our interests if you finished your hunt as soon as possible; I would like to start extending our Clan soonish." He glanced towards Dean who was squirming and still leaking. "It would just be necessary to have a small ceremony in the morning. Nothing too elaborate, it's just a precaution and tradition my family upheld for many, many years, and it is the vow to be bound to each other as mates. We will exchange rings, like the people in the Old Days did, and that will be the whole extent of it. As we discussed before, I will consummate our bond and properly mate him when you come back, as it would be troublesome to get him pregnant by any change while he's still pursuing the hunt. Until then, this will suffice."

Dean didn't want to have be shackled by a ring given to him by Michael, but he much less wanted to be knotted by that douchebag, so this probably was for the best, considering.

"Sounds reasonable enough," John concurred.

"It's good that we came to this agreement, then." Michael nodded, and it was evident that he was pleased how smoothly everything went. The same could be said for John — both of them probably would have expected the other one to be more of a hindrance. "I would like to invite you to spend the night at our place and rest to your heart's content. It would only be fit for you to have everything you need, so I will tell our employees to prepare provisions for your journey as well as a feast for tonight so that you may be well rested when you head out tomorrow after the ceremony."

"Good," John just said. For the one having been the one to make fun of whatever Dean uttered when they approached the manor, he sure didn't give it his best to appear eloquent.

"Well then." Michael bid his guards to come closer with a simple motion of his hand. "Please feel free to request anything you need for your journey. In the meantime, I would like to set up the contract in all its intricacies with you, Mr. Winchester, so that there may be no open questions for when the ceremony or even the feast starts. If you'd give me the pleasure to accompany me."

John nodded and turned around to look at his children. Dean did as well, mostly to not receive to much of John's attention while he was still flushed and needy looking, so he tried to avoid Castiel's gaze — and his msell, goddammit — and instead watched Jess, Sam and Adam. Sam and Jess looked beyond displeased, scowling at John and not even trying to hide it, while Adam looked almost confused. He knew what they were here for and he was old enough and not an idiot, but apparently, the whole reality of giving his brother away to this weird prick only started to sink in just now. He caught Dean's gaze, shortly grimaced at probably his scent, and listened to John who told them to look after the horses and clean all their equipment. John then spared a minuscule glance at Dean, told him to wash up and then directed his whole attention back to Michael.

Dean didn't want to fucking wash up; he wanted to entice his mate with his smell, make him do inappropriate things and run away with him.

He heard an angry grumble from Sam who was behind him and swayed a bit on his place, as if he wanted to strike forward and punch everyone in here and just barely held back — Dean always forgot that the kid was an Alpha as well, because he seemed to unlike any Alpha they ever met — and silently agreed.

*

The feast was actually fairly impressive, considering that it was quite a feat to get something in the Wastelands that hasn't been preserved in cans for years now, because a lot of fresh fruits and even different kinds of meat were dished in front of them. Dean thought that he could almost get used to the thought of being part of the Novak Clan if it meant that he'd get to eat this instead of the dried and disgusting stuff they usually ate on their travels.

Then again, he had to sit on the side of the head of the table, where, of course, Michael was, and had to listen to his pretentious bullshit and the business transactions he filed with John even through the main course. Also, he could feel blue eyes unrelentingly staring at him from the other end of the table. Castiel sat with Sam and Jess — and Dean felt neither jealous nor envious, alright? —, though they barely spoke with each other. The main part of the conversation from that end of the table seemed to be carried by Jess and Anna who got along splendidly. From what Dean could grasp, Anna was indeed a bit of an odd Novak and talked about how she wanted the influence her family had to structure some trade routes and generally re-establish a stable infrastructure, allowing a lot of people to have some kind of employment and, later on, being able to hold up those few relationships they could have and maybe trade their goods for better products. Maybe even install running water in the Wastelands. She wanted her family to supply the at least foundations for all of this, since they were the only ones possessing enough goods to do so, and Jess was easily enthusiastic about her ideas.

Dean wasn't much of a philanthropist, although it sounded interesting enough. It surely would've beaten having to listen to Michael's 'grim hunt for an Omega', especially when he starting nodding at Dean in a very satisfied way, as did John.

"I believe you don't understand even in the slightest how pleased I am with him," Michael says, looking at and talking about Dean but not even addressing him. "Up until now, it were trying years in which I desperately searched for an Omega. I never found one — we tracked every one mention of one or even something remotely like one, but we never succeeded. Some days, I even started thinking that there might be none around anymore. It wouldn't even have been too surprising, given their usual constitution, but, well, hope dies last, and here we are." He smiled around the rim of his glass. "It's more than just appreciation, it's complete adoration for him, if I may say so." Dean wanted to squirm when he locked eyes with him, and albeit his eyes were blue, they were the completely wrong shade of it and carried absolutely no warmth in them. There was something akin to adoration there in his eyes, without a doubt, but it was simply an appraisal for a prize one had fought long and hard for and could finally claim as his own.

Dean dropped his gaze.

"Well, I raised that boy as a hunter, so it's only natural for him to survive, despite his predisposition. I can assure you that he can be of your help even in the future."

"Oh, I don't doubt that, Mr. Winchester. However, there will be no need for him to do so. He won't have to fight or hunt, there are others who will gladly do so for him — this way, he can concentrate all of his attention towards extending the Clan. You will surely agree with me that this will be beneficial for both our families, more so than him keeping up his former lifestyle would."

"I like life as a hunter," Dean interjected, and he wished his voice held more force.

Michael and John both laughed at this.

"I am sure you do. But a life on the road is also no good for a pregnant person. You will come to like your new life as well, I promise," Michael said in a soft and reassuring tone as if speaking with a scared child.

"As I said, he grew up a hunter, so it's only natural for him to be a bit wary of what's to come. He ain't used to just sitting around."

"Oh, I have no doubts about this. I, too, would have my reservations if I knew nothing else than this kind of rogue life, and he may protest a bit in the beginning, but in the end, he will surely accept that living here, safe and comfortable, will fit his needs quite more than the hard work you have to perform every single day. That being said, I really do admire your efforts and how far you have come. Not only as a hunter on your quest for that vile creature, but also as a man and as one to continue the inheritance of our traits."

Dean wanted John to tell Michael how much of a good hunter his eldest son was and that it would be a waste of his skills to breed him up and let him rot, but his father had told him to keep his mouth shut. Maybe he didn't even agree with this notion, thought that Dean wasn't much of a hunter, unlike Sam or Jess — who wasn't even blood —, both being excellent trackers, and Jess was also unrivalled when it came to long-rage fighting. And none of them even had to work hard for it, they actually wanted out of this life and had only stayed when they hard about the deal. Maybe it would be enough for John to have them, or even just Adam, around.

No, no, no. Dean shook his head mentally. John surely would have told him by now if he thought Dean was a bad hunter. He wasn't one to mince his words. Dean knew it was indispensable for their plan and final goal that he promised himself to Michael. After the ceremony in the morning, Dean still had months of time to figure out how to not be actually mated to Michael, and he already thought that his father would never actually leave him here. Right? It was the goal of his whole life to kill Mary's murderer, so of course some things had to take a backseat, but that still didn't mean that John didn't need him in the future. Of course, they were his children not just soldiers you could part with once the job was done. Not tools you could just dispose of.

John just huffed as if being modest. "Hunter or not, animalistic traits or not, I just did what a father had to."

*

Dean swivelled around, struck by the scent he didn't notice coming closer as he had tried to tune it out by breathing through his mouth. But now, there was no way to avoid it, what with Castiel standing just a couple of feet away from him, breathing as heavily as if he had just run a marathon.

He had left the feast after the dessert, when everyone just had a drink or something and the atmosphere was generally rather settled down. In order to escape his father and Michael and especially Castiel's daunting smell, he had made his way outside, over the impressively large balcony, leaned against the railing and taken deep breaths just so he could get rid of that sweet scent. This seemed to have been for nothing.

"You know what I am to you," Castiel started, and _goddamn_ , did that man have to have this fucking bedroom voice on top of his scent and the ridiculously good looks? "You know what _you_ are to _me_." He shook his head to himself, a humourless smile on his face. "Of course you do. How could you not?"

"I," Dean swallowed heavily. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Castiel almost laughed, though the sound he emitted was hollow; like he didn't yet know whether he'd prefer emptiness or madness. " _Dean._ "

He took a step closer, and Dean recoiled.

"No, don't— don't, just stay where you are." He sharply sucked in air through his clenched teeth. "Don't come any closer, Cas. I mean it."

Castiel blinked upon the use of a nickname, and of course he had to look awestruck, had to look like Dean had done him a deed of great kindness or love or anything, when in reality, he just has had come up with a limitless amount of scenarios in which it would've been far easier to call him Cas instead of screaming the whole of his name. And afterwards, he could have whispered it in his ear when they lay embraced with each other, warm and safe. But he didn't mean to call him that, never in reality — it had just slipped.

Castiel obeyed and stood still. Dean really couldn't say he wanted him to do what he told him, but this was surely for the better — he had a lot of self-control, but after he almost lost it right in front of Michael and his father, he wasn't too certain he could hold back if he were to be graced by this man's heat. And was that not just laughable.

"S-so what is it you want, hm?" Dean went for relaxed, though his posture told a very different story.

"You," he deadpanned, entirely too truthful.

Dean laughed, and if it had a bit of an hysterical edge to it, who could blame him? "So what, you thought you could come out here and bend me over while my future mate and my fucking father are just a few feet away? Because if I can just trade my body that easily, you surely can have a piece of me as well?" Well, provocation always came easily to Dean once he was at a loss for the words he actually wanted to speak.

Something dark darted over Castiel's features. He growled. "I did not think that. I did not come here to… to treat you like anything less than what you are and what you deserve. But…" His gaze flickered towards the ground. "I wanted to… ascertain." If Dean didn't know any better, he would claim that he could see him blushing in the dark.

Man, how could Cas be all hot and upfront that one moment and be shuffling his feet in the other? Why did that make him that much more desirable?

"Ascertain?" Dean croaked. "You actually weren't sure of the," he waved his hand between Castiel and himself, "before now? Really?"

"I was sure the moment I smelled you again — the way your scent changed when I stepped outside." It was Dean's turn to blush now. He didn't even notice any kind of change in himself — though he at least knew to be wary of producing slick — but obviously, his body reacted even in the slightest ways to Castiel's presence.

"Yeah, well," Dean mumbled. "Still doesn't explain a thing."

"It doesn't?" Castiel tilted his head, but his question wasn't one he wanted an answer to. "I believe that you being my true mate is more than enough of an explanation for the question of why I am here."

"I'm not your—" Dean started but dropped it again. Even charades only could be held up so long until they became ridiculous. The way his skin felt heated even in the night air and how he just wanted to drop onto the ground and present himself to Castiel were evidence enough to how he shouldn't even try to keep on denying it. At least not in front of the only person who knew the truth. "Maybe that, but it doesn't explain _why_ you're here. Why really. What you believe to gain from this."

Castiel's features softened in an impossible way and he, despite his words just now, drew a bit closer, albeit very slowly. "I wanted to see you, Dean." The tenderness of his smile might have made a lesser man start sobbing. "I wanted to know that I am not alone in this. I wanted you to know that you're not alone in this, either." He lifted his hand, in such a slow pace that Dean had no problems following it its way towards his freckled cheek. He didn't withdraw. "I wanted to touch you," Castiel whispered, so quiet that no one that wasn't them would've been able to hear it. And just like his words were just for Dean, so was the anguish stiffening Castiel's face. "Before Michael becomes your… _mate_. Before I wouldn't allow myself to do so. Just this once." His caressed Dean's cheekbone with his thumb, in a quiet reverence.

Dean wanted to cry and scream and rage, but all he did was stiffen under his touch.

"Cas, I can't." His voice was so small now that he wasn't even sure that Castiel would have heard. Castiel did.

"I know." He smiled again and retracted his hand.

Ah.

The skin of his cheek felt too cold. Colder than before, before Castiel had touched him.

He couldn't.

But.

But Dean, in the frenzy of his feelings, darted his hands out in front, clutched at the dark clothing that covered Castiel's chest and drew him close, so very close, to himself. Finally, he could feel the heat of his body and gaze into those blue eyes without a distance between them and let his nose be all filled up by the sweetest of scents. He pressed his face into Castiel's neck, desperate, right there where the smell was strongest, licked a wet stripe up to his glands and ended his motions in a lingering kiss on the nape of his neck.

"Cas, I can't," he repeated weakly, unconvincingly against his skin.

If the change in Castiel's scent was anything to go by, he, though, very well could. He wanted. Just as much as Dean wanted to bury himself in his true mate's presence, in his everything.

Just a second later, he was engulfed by his warmth, held by his arms, cradled exactly the way he wanted to be since he laid eyes on him. Castiel pressed Dean close to himself, buried his face in his hair and took deep breaths, as if to store away the exact scent to his memory. He did nothing more, though. Did not yield to what his body, just like Dean's, undoubtedly told him to. Maybe they were both strong — stubborn — enough to do this, to endure. To not give in to their desires.

"I gotta do this. For my family. I won't back out," Dean whispered.

"I understand," Castiel sighed, albeit less in resignation than admiration.

"My father worked hard for this for years. Without your family's help, I don't know if there will ever be an end to this hunt."

"I know, Dean." He soothed down Dean's hair with his hand. "Mi— my brother explained the situation to us so that we know what it is that's to be done by us to hold up our end of the deal. It's obvious that your father and you really must want this to give away a person as magnificent as yourself away to _him_."

The rumble of Castiel's voice, the way Dean could feel the vibrations right beneath his hand, almost made him delirious. And the spite with which Cas didn't even want to say Michael's name put a smile on his face.

"It's really not that big of an sacrifice." Or so he had thought. "It wouldn't have been, I mean… and I'm not much to be given to. 'S lucky I'm an Omega, otherwise I would be the worst bargaining chip."

Castiel detached himself from Dean just to bring enough inches between their faces that he could see and touch Dean's. "What do you mean by that?"

"What? The Omega part? I'm pretty sure you know about that one."

"No, that's not what I'm talking about." He shook his head and scrutinized Dean's face with a frown. "Do you think your only worth consists of being an Omega and, in the end, a commodity?"

Dean tried to look away but the hands framing his face kept him still. He was embarrassed about having been to open about his self-worth issues and having exposed them in front of Castiel. They didn't matter and he was used to people just shrugging or laughing about what he said, probably thinking he wasn't serious or that it might be true. Either way, he didn't want the person who looked at him like he could hang the stars just by breathing to have to listen to this crap.

"It was just a joke." He put up a rather obviously false smile.

Castiel, just as stubborn Castiel, scrunched up his nose. "No, it wasn't."

"Let it go, Cas."

Castiel tilted his head. "You think you don't deserve better."

Dean suddenly disliked the way Cas understood him instantly, as if he could see deep inside his soul and gaze at all the shit Dean had stuffed down there. He didn't want him to see all that, while at the same time he wanted to spill all his fears and doubts to Castiel and know that they'd be safe with him. Which was impossible and could never happen, which was why he took a step back.

"It doesn't matter. Even if I did or did not think I did deserve any better, it wouldn't change a thing. I will become Michael's bitch," Castiel almost flinched, "and that will be it. It's fine, my family will be safe and happy, and that's more than I could ever have hoped for. It doesn't matter what I really want." He couldn't help but let his gaze rove over Castiel's agonized face. "I won't get it."

Castiel's face fell and he was silent for a moment. That was good because if he stopped talking, he couldn't keep telling Dean all this sweet stuff he would like to believe in and that made it all the harder to keep away from the Alpha. He wanted to hear all that, deep down, but it still sounded like nonsense to his ears — it was too good to be true. He would've believed Castiel, though, he was sure, if he only heard him whisper his adorations enough and if he could be held again. He longed to feel his warmth and his skin and the soft touches of his hands.

Instead, he took another few steps back.

Castiel finally looked up at that, following Dean's retreat with a face that obviously should have been blank but showed his aching nonetheless.

"I am assigned to accompany you on your hunt. Along with Anna," he said quietly.

Dean couldn't help but laugh. "You _have got_ to be kidding me."

"I can assure you, I am not. Because of all of our older and more experienced siblings travelling in the family's name at the moment, the only ones left are Anna and me. Samandriel as well, but it is not entirely clear whether he will come along. We are to help your family in your hunt because even if there will be a dozen more guards present, it was assumed to only be adequate to have some of us accompany you as well."

This seemed all very reasonable but also very transparent. "You are supposed to make sure the precious Omega will survive this trip, right?"

With the emotions in his face finally subdued, Castiel nodded. "Yes. But it seemed, indeed, to be a fair price to send two of us along. I am not the only one who thinks you're invaluable, though the reasons for this assessment may differ, and even if there was no need for us to protect you, the Novaks surely can spare two of the youngest ones as trading goods and the sign of a good will."

Dean made a face. It was not even about sending out people like pawns in general, but the fact that Michael didn't hesitate to just use his family like he saw fit that made the hunter angry. He failed to see the irony in this. "Wow, that guy is even more of an asshole than I thought."

Castiel smiled a private, sad smile. "Yes, he is." The _He will still be your mate_ was left unsaid but seemed clear.

Oh, did he want to reach out for him and sooth both their aches, in a way only the certainty of touch could bring. His hand twitched, as did his feet, and he was about to draw closer to him again and take up his righteous place directly in his intimate space, but before he could even breach the distance between them with his hand, a door slammed open.

"Dean?" Adam called from the doors leading onto the balcony.

Dean's hand fell away. Castiel's face was schooled into a carefully blank expression.

"Over here, Adam," he called back.

The younger brother slowly jogged up to where Dean's voice led him and wrinkled his forehead as he noticed Castiel standing close to him. Surely not as close as for it to be suspicious, but the fact that he was with Dean itself must have seemed unexpected.

"Am I interrupting something? Michael asked for you but if you want me to, I can tell him it'll take some more?"

"No," Dean cleared his throat. "It's fine. We were just done anyway. I'm gonna come inside in a sec."

Adam nodded and shrugged at the same time, obviously not further bothered by Castiel's presence. "Alright." And he turned around and started making his way back over the balcony.

It was rude, without a doubt, and Dean just wanted to shoot Cas an apologetic smile and get away — because if he could not get closer, then made you should try for distance to make everything easier —, but Castiel grabbed his sleeve and stared at him.

"Dean," he murmured, and yeah, there was pain in there. Pain for a myriad of things, and they all were because of Dean. Well. It couldn't be helped.

"Cas," Dean replied, dismissive, but Castiel didn't let go. Maybe it was time for him to learn what happened to those people who tried to reach for Dean. They all ought to let go, and they always did in the end. Because Dean wanted them to, and maybe because they didn't grip tight enough. Which was good, really. It was just peachy.

"Don't think this makes me give up on you, or that it is just and right what happens to you," Castiel growled where Dean had expected him to be silent and just let him slink back indoors. "I will respect the duties you have chosen for yourself, just like I will try to uphold the duties I am burdened with due to my family, but that doesn't change anything about my feelings. I know how to obey and what I have to do and what you have to, and I will act accordingly." He took a deep breath. "I told you I only wanted to know for certain, and now I do." His voice grew quieter. "This may be enough."

God fucking dammit. Dean turned away from him, running his hand over his face.

"It has to be."

He didn't wait to see the reaction on Cas' face when he shook free from his grip, didn't want to face the same kind of pain he himself felt, so he just strode past him as fast as possible, over the balcony, through the door and back inside.

He didn't see Castiel for the remainder of the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Among The Waste, also known as: I Hate John Winchester More Than You Do


	3. What A Beautiful Wedding!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Half a year for one measly chapter. There are no words.

Despite Sam's speech about not doing this and instead for Dean to turn away at the very last minute — and despite every cell in Dean's body telling him pretty much the same —, Dean straightened his collar and stepped into the clean and white room in which the ceremony was to take place.

There were some simple chairs put into rows, and portraits of different people — probably ancestors of the Novaks — lined the walls. It looked very much like the ruins of the places of worship that the Winchesters had sometimes found during their travels to different cities — or what once were cities —, but it didn't really add up. Because, as far as everyone knew, those places of worship hadn't been dedicated to kings and queens or even the government, but to some kind of higher power, deities, the people used to believe in. But people had long ago seen that there were no higher beings and no deities watching over humanity, and it seemed fairly backward for the Novaks to do so.

Dean, in his curiosity, stepped closer to one of the portraits which featured a dark-skinned and solemn-looking woman. The little plate below the frame named her Raphaela Novak, which meant that the Novaks indeed didn't worship any kind of god, only themselves, which was at least reassuring in its consistency with the imagine Dean had gotten from the family, especially Michael. That is, they were self-loving pricks.

Speak of the devil, Dean suddenly heard voices and the sound of footsteps coming down the long corridor that led to this measly chapel, and only a few moments later did Michael, his siblings, some old man dressed in white, Adam, John and also Castiel step inside. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"The ceremony is usually done before witnesses," Michael explained leisurely while he walked to the back of the room where a small altar with a couple of objects laid upon was situated. The old man followed him and looked expectantly at Dean, who only noticed after a few seconds that he was being stared at and supposed to do something, because he himself was busy staring at Castiel, who, of course, stared back. Castiel's expression was just as solemn as the one of Raphaela Novak, and Dean thought he understood why those grim portraits were displayed in this room of all things. It was likely that most of the ceremonies taking place in there held as little joy as the one Dean was to participate in.

Dean wanted to smile at Castiel or ask him to embrace him and draw in his scent just like Cas had done on the balcony, before Dean would have to go and falsely pledge himself to Michael, but he knew he couldn't do such a thing. Not now, but especially not after all of this went down. So, instead, he turned his back to everyone but Michael and the old man and went up to the altar, trying not to let himself linger with reluctant steps.

Behind himself, he could hear the sounds of people taking their seats.

"We don't want to waste too much time on this, the Winchesters are just as busy as I am, so please make it quick, Pater."

The old man looked at him a bit sceptically, and Dean assumed that he'd probably done these kinds of ceremonies many, many years for the Novaks, but he wasn't quite used to them being cut short or between people who barely knew each other. Maybe Dean had been wrong in his assessment of the usual non-joy this place held, maybe the old man clung to some ridiculous notion the Novaks couldn't give a damn about. Still, he cleared his throat and raised his hands as well as his voice in a ceremonial manner.

"Us, gathered here today, have come here to bear witness to the solidification of the union between Michael Novak and Dean Winchester. In this final yet beginning act will they become mates for life, by which they will give themselves to one another, with both their love — something so sacred and unique to humankind — and their body — with all their animalistic inheritance, making them completely one another's for all eternity."

Dean gave it his best try not to raise his eyebrows, but it was difficult. He wouldn't have expected the priest or whatever he was supposed to represent to make such deep claims about their relationship, especially because he surely knew that all of this was nothing more than a treaty. Then again, this just confirmed that he was indeed used to people doing this ceremony because they loved each other, not because there would be an easy bitch and a whole lot of information on the murderer on one's mother in it. It almost felt sacrilegious of him, although Michael had been the one to insist on doing this ceremony, and doing it so quickly as well. Some other people might have assumed that there could be at least some kinds of feelings between him and Dean given enough time — Dean not only doubted this, but knew this would never come to be —, so it was a bit odd. But thinking back, his father had wanted to seal this deal just as quickly, making this likely the same case of doing this so no one could back out of it. Either way, this ceremony was heavy stuff and Dean didn't really want to stand here at the altar, and if he had to at all, not with Michael.

"The act of showing and giving each other the human love will take place now and in these halls, the act of showing and giving each other their animalistic love will be held in private later on." Dean really didn't want to hear some old priest talking about sex. "Both of them will be represented by their three sacraments."

The old man turned around to shuffle with his hands on the altar, probably preparing those sacraments, and Dean started to wonder what they were. When it came to the animalistic part, it must have been knotting, the mating bite and most likely breeding — though it seemed weird to assume that breeding their partner only made their unison legitimate, but Dean couldn't come up with anything else —, but he had no idea what those human sacrileges could be about. When Sam and Jess had married, all they did was pretty much stating to the other one that they wanted to consider themselves to be an married couple, then swapped their most-prized weapons and went off on their honeymoon for a week. That last part was a bit awkward as they didn't want to stray too far from John and Dean, and they had promised not to bring themselves or their group in danger, so they generally were only half a day's distance away from them. One night, when Dean had been sleeping underneath the clear sky after a rather fruitful day in which they didn't get far from the camp the day before, he had heard them going at it.

It was mentally scarring. Not because of Sam, but because of Jess. Dean didn't like to think back on this too much.

"The first sacrament," the old man started, carrying a small, blue box in each of his hands, "will be the vow. You will say to each other 'I vow to stay by your side, care for you and love you until death do us part.'"

Wouldn't be the first time Dean lied straight to someone's face, but he could hear the shuffling of people and their clothes in the background. He straightened his back.

"Michael, please go ahead."

Michael smiled an unpleasant and very obviously false smile when the priest approached him, and he turned to look directly into Dean's eyes; yet it felt like he wasn't even seeing him. "I vow to stay by your side, care for you and love you until death do us part."

Upon hearing this and realizing it was now his turn to say so, Dean's heart went clammy. "I…" A loud screeching sound made him flinch and whip his head around, into the same direction everyone was staring at: Castiel had half-lifted himself from his seat, probably in a rush of the same feelings that had made Dean want to just shut up and never utter another lie again, but now he held up his hands in a placating manner, making it look like he only had wanted to righten his seating or go to the bathroom or anything, but not actually interrupting the ceremony. His face was grim.

Well, if this exact brand of unsubtle idiot wasn't exactly the one Dean desperately wanted to go for.

Some of the attendees smiled as if to say that it was alright and that they could now resume the ceremony. Dean, still looking at Castiel, much like the other attendees, punched out a breathless, "I vow to stay by your side, care for you and love you until death do us part."

The attendees now turned to look at him, most likely thinking that Dean had continued from before by himself, and Dean quickly turned around, looking at Michael now scrutinizing him. Dean smiled at him, sweating blood. He could only hope that Michael didn't notice or care about not having said this kind of bullshit to his face, or that he had noticed whom it had been directed at. Dean kept looking at him with false cheer.

Michael lifted an eyebrow and turned to face the priest again.

Whatever, asshole. If he had actually noticed and had cared about all of this so little that it was alright by him that Dean had just vowed himself to Castiel — _and why did he even insist on having this ceremony at all? Because it was family tradition?_ — then so be it. Sure, this didn't mean that Dean would up and throw away everything he was here for and pursue anything with Castiel, he still had his duties to his father and also his mother and the rest of his little family surely would greatly benefit from having the Novaks on their side and on the same family tree, but still. A vow was still a vow, no matter how much of a lie it would have been.

Then again, the vow was only the first of the sacraments. Maybe it was of little importance when it came to the other ones? Dean shuddered.

The old man didn't care for the interrupting as he now nodded a few times, as if being satisfied. Dean assumed that he only wanted to get through this charade with as much grace and as quick as possible, which was something most likely everyone in this room felt the same about.

"The second sacrament is a kiss," the priest explained. "People in the Old Days expressed their deep and abiding feelings for each other with a kiss, a strong symbol of love. Nowadays, it surely still gives way to emotion, but in these ceremonies, it is an utter expression of everything you have ever felt for each other and every emotion that will encompass you in the future; it's a promise to cherish and treasure the person you are giving the kiss to above all and until the end of your days."

Torn between frantic laughter and throwing up, Dean settled on blanching.

How was it that this shit just got heavier and heavier? Sure, the first sacrament was a vow to be with each other, but the second one was pretty much the same, just that he also had to fucking show it instead of just lying through his teeth? Fuck, what was it then that he had to do as the third sacrament? Promise his never-ending love to Michael while spreading his legs for him? Dean clenched jaw and teeth and felt laughter welling up inside of him again — well, wasn't that exactly what he went in for? What did he even expect? Really, when considering how little enthusiasm Michael himself showed for this ceremony, it was pretty much what Dean had always thought was in store for him. A vow and a little kiss, that wasn't even that bad. In fact, it seemed rather tame, especially when thinking about what the other three sacraments, the ones concerning the animalistic traits, would include. A kiss was nothing when it came to being forced to hang on some guy's knot for hours, taking everything he was given and acting like some devout little bitch who was just keen on being bred and kept away. So, yeah, this ceremony was really tame — and Dean was afraid that maybe he wasn't freaking out about this just because he was comparing it to what was still to come, but because of the ceremony in itself. That this wasn't, in comparison to being knotted, shitty, but he still found it shitty in general.

He shook his head internally. When did he become such a needy and weak coward? When did he start putting himself above his family, since when was he so selfish?

A new whiff of scent from behind him reminded him.

He closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them again, he forced himself to nod and smile. "Alright then, let's do this."

Michael raised an eyebrow again but seemingly decided on not commenting in any way more than nodding himself, making a gesture towards the priest that told him to continue, and fixated Dean with an unwavering stare.

Man, were those damn blue eyes some kind of family trait? First Cas, then Anna, and actually Michael, too. Sure, Dean minded being watched with those blue eyes of Michael's — while for Anna, he didn't care, and for Castiel, well, he would have fidgeted under his gaze for completely different reasons —, but it was obvious they had the same parents. Maybe it was even part of their genetic Alpha inheritance? Sure, Sam and John didn't have eyes like these, but they could have come from different tribes or whatever back in the Old Days. Dean should ask his father about this later on. Now, though, he should stop trying to distract himself from the waiting faces of the old man and Michael.

He cleared his throat, surely looking as uneasy as he felt, and closed the small distance between himself and his future mate. Not with a hand reaching out to grasp his arm or to cup his cheek, instead he, very much like a child, leant forward and pressed his lips against Michael's in a chaste kiss.

Dean was glad to find that Michael held his lips just as still as he did. Dean assumed that Michael would be in the same boat as him, not even trying to be tender with Dean, instead just taking him and letting him know that this was all that was to it. It was a relief, in some way, because Dean was sure he wouldn't have been able to fake the need for gentle demeanour from him. Yeah, this was probably for the best. It already seemed like Michael had no further interest in Dean beside his ability to be bred, so maybe this was exactly what he would make it about. Maybe Dean had underestimated his abilities to be professional, maybe this was something Dean could endure.

That was, until Michael's hand suddenly shot from his side to Dean's neck, clutching it and driving his fingernails into the soft and warm skin of it — very much like a mock mating bite. Dean gasped in shock, but as he tried to draw away, Michael's grasp became even tighter and an almost inaudible growl came from his throat. Just when he opened his mouth, licking into Dean's, just getting a taste, and maybe in order to bite him right there and right, he loosened his hand and finally leaned back, shoving Dean away from him just so; his eyes were glinting with something that might have been possessiveness. It lacked any warmth or fear or doubt that usually accompanied this kind of emotion, though.

He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. He just looked at Dean, and Dean understood; he was Michael's.

The person in the last row whose pheromones pounded like a storm against the altar might have disagreed, but Dean didn't. Not really, not anymore. He hasn't even been here for a whole day, and his resolve for his family duties were already wavering. But they'd still win in the end -— Dean could never just forgo his family's goals and happiness. Michael didn't need to tell him this, a growl and the mock of a mating bite were clear enough a message; even if Michael couldn't have known the exact specifications of the Winchesters's decision to come here, it must have been clear that they really did need this. That they really needed the Novaks. Just like Castiel had said the night before. Because even if Dean didn't consider him to have that much worth by himself, many people would consider it a big deal to kind of sell off their oldest child, which surely must have made it clear to Michael that Dean might have his reservations and — he just hoped Michael hadn't actually noticed him and Cas — might even stray, but it wouldn't change anything. In the end, Dean was his.

Dean shouldn't forget that.

"The third sacrament," the old man went on, because of course there was still more to come, "is the swapping of two rings. Throughout different cultures and religions, people in the Old Days used rings as a visible symbol for the flawless and infinite nature of their love; once they wore each other's ring, they kept them on at all times, showing everyone just that they were already promised to their beloved, and have taken them as their equal."

Dean would rather die than call Michael 'beloved', but there goes nothing. Also, he didn't care much for this ring bullshit — it held no meaning for him, was altogether part of some culture that was foreign to him. Making vows to love each other, kissing each other, afterwards having sex and relieving in their animalistic nature, all of this was something he could understand and feel, but not that. His family's tradition has been for decades to give their partner their most precious weapon, which is about the highest praise and sign of trust and love you could offer as a Winchester. So, whatever about the rings. Could've been worse, really.

The priest held out the small blue boxes from before again. "Those contain the rings. Each of you will take a box and put on the ring inside of it on the finger of your beloved. After exchanging the rings, the human part of your unity will be fulfilled and this ceremony will be finished. You may continue to honour your second nature after that."

Dean was thankful that anything concerning their 'second nature' was not on the table right now; that they'd go on their travels right after having finalized this shit, so that he could deal with his feelings while finding his mother's murderer, and he'd come to terms with now being whatever Michael wanted him to be sooner or later. No big deal.

Both Dean and Michael opened their boxes and took out the rings, simple golden bands that lacked any fanfare or engravings or anything the like, which was good enough for Dean. He'd taken a first glance at it, examining in order to fake interest, but before he could have given the box back to the priest or even commented on it, Michael caught the wrist of his right hand, pried open his fingers and shoved on the ring with little care.

Dean didn't even have time to react or show his surprise when Michael already held out his own hand, an expectant and maybe even smug expression on his face.

"Well, _beloved?_ "

Yep, definitely smug.

Dean took a deep breath — which was a mistake, because he didn't wanna pick up on _that_ scent, not right now — and slipped on the band with slightly instable hands.

The gold looked as wrong on Michael's pale skin as it did on his own tan one.

The priest continued for a minute or so about their supposed luck and love, but Dean didn't listen. He was unable to rip away his gaze from his own hand, and he didn't dare to take more than shallow breaths through his mouth. His skin seemed to crawl with an anxious feeling, but he tried to beat it down.

It was a relief when the priest clapped his hands three times and declared the ceremony to be finished and valid.

*

They haven't even been done for a minute when Michael and part of his troupe already left again, saying something about preparing their travels and continuing their work. Dean didn't care as long as they weren't present anymore. The only ones still remaining were the Winchesters, the priest, Anna and Castiel.

John congratulated him in a short sentence about how he helped his family a great deal, and then didn't waste any time and went on to talk business.

"We need to get a move on. This took longer than expected, and we haven't gotten anything prepared for the search yet."

Dean nodded, absently touching the metal on his finger that didn't seem to grow warmer despite his body heat.

"Sam can do the packing while Jessica goes and finds us some nice weapons," John continued gruffly. "I'm gonna get the rest of the maps and money from Novak, then we'll go ahead. Dean, you saddle the horses. We'll head out in half an hour."

Dean frowned slightly. "I don't think I'll be done by then, sir." After all, none of the four horses were even so much as curried by then, much less prepared any more.

John grunted. "You'd better be."

The black look Sam had been wearing all throughout the last few days took on a fighting edge. "Dad—"

"What?"

"How about you cut Dean some slack? I mean, he's just been sold off to—" He glanced at Anna and Castiel, but before he could even consider continuing, John cut him off.

"Watch your mouth before I make you! Don't you dare show your ungratefulness in the face of—"

"I will help Dean with the horses," Castiel's rough voice chimed in. Dean felt something deep inside of him flutter, just from something as stupid as this.

John looked him over, not without the faintest hint of disdain, probably because of his interruption, and then did a gesture between nodding and shrugging. "Half an hour," he repeated, then turned on his heel and left the room.

A growl from Dean's left told him that Sam wasn't finished with this conversation — nor would he ever be — but Dean couldn't be bothered right then. He had indeed just been given to the highest bidder, and now wore a token of his ownership on his finger, until he would also wear one on his neck. The thought was as tiring as the fights between Sam and his father, and maybe even as much as now having to face Castiel. Not because he didn't enjoy his closeness, but exactly because he did, and now he'd have to fight against every instinct telling him to grasp his chance at contact and for being cared for.

"Let's go," he just muttered and without looking back, he exited the chapel in long strides.

He knew that Castiel was following him, although he kept his distance the first two corridors that Dean only knew how to navigate through because there were no other ways to turn. The moment they started dividing into different directions, though, he got slower and expected Castiel to overtake and lead him towards the stables.

Castiel seemed to have other things in mind. The moment he came close enough to do so, he grabbed Dean's shoulder firmly and manhandled him into a small passage of a corridor that had most likely used by servants back in the Old Days. Dean went willingly. Without hesitation, Castiel pressed Dean against the iron-shod surface, covering him with his warm and deliriously nice-smelling body and took his lips in a harsh kiss.

Dean didn't think, didn't miss a beat before he kissed him back just as fervently.

Castiel made an approving noise in the back of his throat and crowded him even closer against the wall, grasping at his clothes and his hair, while his scent became even stronger and his kisses more desperate.

"Dean…" he breathed against his stubbled jawline.

"Cas," he responded in kind, hooking his leg behind one of Cas's knees to draw him against him even more, as close as their bodies allowed, putting him into a better angle so that their crotches were aligned as much as their mouths again, and they started their frantic rutting against each other.

The hot, hard and, _oh damn_ , huge line of the Alpha against Dean's own rapidly growing erection made him unwillingly utter a moan Cas seemed all too eager to swallow.

It felt good, so very fucking good, to take in nothing but the unfiltered want in the air and in Castiel's feverish features, to think of nothing but how much he loved being desired and cared for, and how his own feelings were exact and helpless mirrors of Castiel's.

Castiel's hands roamed all over Dean's body, one of them exposing Dean's vulnerable throat, which didn't even scare the Omega, only turned him on even more, especially once Cas started licking a long line from his clavicle to his jaw. He teased with his teeth, ever so slightly, but Dean knew that Cas really did want to bite down and claim him — and so help him the God under whose eyes he just swore himself to another man, so did Dean.

"Cas, _please_ ," he begged, maybe for him to stop, most likely for him to go through with it, and their rutting lost any and each rhythm, became just hard presses and grounding against each other.

Castiel growled, possessively, and Dean could feel him open his mouth wide, angling his teeth, and Dean couldn't help his jovial "Yeah, yeah, _yeah_ , yes, _Cas, please,_ yes, do it, please, make me _yours_ , now, _please,_ " but before Castiel could sink his teeth deep into the willing flesh of his true mate, take and give what they both wanted, finalize what they both yearned for before they even knew they did, someone loudly cleared their throat.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuuh, so, I look for a beat reader? I'd need someone who's a native speaker of English to correct my stuff and to maybe kick my ass every now and then, just so that it won't take me another six months for the next update. If anyone's interested, please drop me a line in my askbox! (My tumblr's avyssoseleison.tumblr.com)  
> Apart from that: I'm actually really sorry that I'm such a terrible person who never updates her fic, lol. I really am. I get into a writing slump really easily and don't write a single line for weeks and months on end, because I am so dissatisfied, but I vow to force myself to write no matter how shitty I feel about what I produce. I think no one here is willing to wait ~8 years for this story to be finished.


	4. For Better Or Worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> — Knock, knock.  
> — Who's there?  
> — Interrupting Moose.  
> — Interrupting Moose wh—

Fuck.

Fucking fuck.

Of fucking course.

It was safe to say that Sam's eyes were about as equally wide as Dean's — and that they both spoke of the same sense of fleeting terror and the epiphany about everyone being collectively fucked, as only siblings understand. The only difference in their faces were their mouths; while Dean's was still slack in shock, Sam's was pressed into a hard and determined line. After all, it was Sam who had discovered them and exposed himself, so it was likely this look of determination was one he had worn before Dean had looked at him like a deer in headlights, and in that moment, he might have understood that he was as in deep as Dean now, that their fucked-up but absolute loyalty had made him into an accessory after the fact as soon as he had stumbled upon them. There was something so say about Winchesters and their obsession with family.

But that still didn't change of utterly disapproving he looked at not just Dean but especially at Cas, who, in that very instinct that was rumored to make the Novaks and the Winchesters superior, had him towering completely over Dean, shielding every inch of his body with his own and growling in a deep and menacing rumble at the other Alpha. Brother or not, it was likely to assume that having to deal with not just one but two Alphas who have more rights and claims to his true mate than him, while he could do little more than hope for any scrapes Dean could offer to give, had made him a bit sensitive.

Sam narrowed his eyes and looked like he wanted to snarl right back, but caught himself in time.

"Dean," he said, pissed off.

Castiel growled again and let his lips trail possessively over his true mate's neck, kissing and licking the skin as if to show that he could stake his claim via a mating bite at any moment — and that Dean, who still kept his throat bared to him and his eyes trained on Sam, would willingly allow him to do so. Dean had no doubt that if he already liked being in Castiel's safe embrace, the Novak's inner animal must have been fucking _ecstatic_ about Dean's granting access.

Sam, on the other hand, seemed torn between trying to put a stop to this primitive display and bring forth reason, and wanting to fucking rip out the throat of the guy who was all over his brother, even if the Omega apparently enjoyed it.

All of this was about as endearing as it was pathetic.

"Sammy," Dean grunted out, slightly muffled by Castiel's form still prostrated over him.

" _Dean_." Wow, and there was a bitchface if Dean had ever seen one.

Dean tried to use the smile that usually disarmed men, women and everyone above that alike, but Sam had probably seen it too often to fall for it.

Instead, he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "What are you doing?"

"What's it look like?"

"Don't know about you, but it almost seems like you had just given Dad the okay to sell your fucking body to the head of the Novaks' family, which I, by the way, told you not to do, even if you gave me shit for it, and not five fucking minutes after having some weird-ass ceremony, you're making out with one of his brothers." He glared at Castiel who held his gaze without a flinch. Dean was close enough to hear the near-constant rumble swelling in Castiel's chest. "I mean what the hell, Dean? I told you I'd help you against Dad, so what—?"

"Look," Dean sighed. Damn younger brothers. And damn Cas for still nipping at his skin as if Dean's younger brother wasn't just a couple of feet away. "This is, uh, a bit hard to explain. But I promise it won't change anything about the contract."

"Dean, I don't give a _fuck_ about the contract. You know that I wanted to stop this fucking hunt _years_ ago, and that Jess and I only stayed around because of you, not because we wanted to be part of this anymore." Dean leaned a bit more into Castiel's warmth, which his true mate eagerly reciprocated. "I told you this was a bad idea. Like, _real_ bad. And I'm not even pissed of that you're here with, uh, Castiel, like not per se, but why would you accept a contract and shit on it the very next moment? If you'd changed your mind, you shoulda acted on it before saying yes, man."

"I told you it won't change a thing! Contract's still on, don't worry."

"You think that's what I want to hear? Dean, I'd be _glad_ if you decided to put a halt to all this, but that makes it even _worse_. Your heart's quite obviously not even in it, not like you claimed to, but you still go through with it because of Dad. You give up everything just because Dad can't let go."

"Watch it, Sam."

"You wanna know what's worst of all, though? This guy!" He angrily gestured towards Castiel. "You think I wouldn't notice? I've been around you my whole life, man, I know your smell — and I know that it's been different since we arrived here. That it's different whenever he's around. Like, urgh, aroused-different. At first, I thought it was because you have never been with any Alphas outside our family, so your body was simply reacting and adjusting to them — and I'm sure that's what everyone else thinks —, but that's not it. You're not like that around Michael or Anna or anyone, just Castiel. I can fucking smell your slick, can smell you getting turned on every time Castiel is near, which, gross." He took a deep breath, presumably to steady his thoughts. "Your fucking smell is what told me where you were just now. The two of you are like a beacon of scent."

"I'd rather you wouldn't talk about my fucking slick."

"Yeah, Dean, so do I." He scoffed. "So what's it with you two? How come I have to smell this?"

Dean averted his gaze, looking over Castiel who was still nuzzling him. He didn't want to tell Sam about them being true mates, because Sam was a little boy who'd probably start crying and fawning and talking about true love or something like that, and he'd endanger the contract. At the same time, it was kind of obvious that there was something more going on than a simple reaction to someone who could be considered a possible mate, as Sam had just pointed out. Most of all, though, didn't he want to talk about Cas in any way that implied any less than the gravity of what he was to him. It was foolish, because nothing could ever come out of it, biology or no, but acting as if Dean had just latched on the first halfway decent-looking (or more like, fucking gorgeous) Alpha he had come across didn't sit right with him. He wasn't afraid of being branded needy and slutty and whatnot, but Cas was so much more than a simple distraction or something to pass the time until Dean was with his actual mate. He was everything he could ever have craved for and sought after. And if that wasn't a thought that was equal measures terrifying as grounding.

"We are true mates," Castiel said, ridding Dean off any hesitation in face of the bland truth he would never want to cover up.

Sam's eyebrows shut up so high they were invisible beneath his ridiculous bangs. "What?"

Castiel nodded to himself, skimming Dean's biceps with his hands. "Dean is my true mate, and I am his."

"That's not…" Sam looked just completely confused. "That's not a real thing, is it? I thought this was just one of the myths they passed around to make people with animalistic traits seem even more different and all that? How do you know that's what it is?"

"I felt it. And I assume Dean felt the same. The moment I first saw, no, smelled him, I knew that this was what he is." Castiel looked away from Sam and at Dean, and suddenly his gaze was filled with nothing but warmth and adoration. He stroked a wayward strand of dirty-blond hair behind Dean's ear. "At first, I couldn't believe that someone as beautiful and flawless was actually more than an illusion, a wishful dream, but when he looked at me, past Michael and his own father, with wide eyes and his sweet scent rising, I knew he was my true mate, my everything." He pressed a chaste kiss onto Dean's forehead.

Dean blushed violently and just gaped at the man who looked about two seconds away from making sweet love to him despite Sam still standing there. He then dropped his gaze, simply because he didn't want them to see how such a simply yet all-encompassing admission made his heart flutter and turned him into a gooey pile of mush. He didn't want to appear as weak and touched in front of his younger brother, and he didn't know how Castiel would react if he knew how eager Dean was to hear those kinds of words, how much of a needy and love-starved Omega he truly was.

"So yes," Castiel continued, this voice way rougher, almost angered when speaking with Sam, "true mates are indeed real."

Sam lifted his hands in a placating manner. "It's fine, man, I believe you." He stared at the way they were still all over each other, and his eyes widened just so, in shock, in realization. "Oh shit. During the ceremony, you…" He shook his head at Dean. "Fuck, Dean, you…"

Yeah, this did nothing to lessen Dean's blush — did the two of them have to embarrass him that much? He swallowed and let his forehead rest on Castiel's shoulder, who was eager to let him do so and let his hands roam over his back. Dean liked Cas touching him too much — and he knew the time for them to have this was limited — that he didn't even care that Sam would see it. "Yeah…"

Sam gaped at him. "Dean, I _told you_ that you don't have to go through with this. And alright, you getting it on with Castiel like two seconds after this whole ceremony is already laughable enough, but that you didn't even bother to actually go through the motions with Michael…" He shook his head. "Why did you fucking agree to this? You didn't wanna do it before, during or after, so why not trust me or, I don't know, Castiel to help you out last minute, if you're only half-assing it anyway? Are you that afraid of Dad?"

Dean snapped up at that. "I'm not fucking _afraid_ of Dad, I'm not afraid of _anything_. I don't know if you've noticed, but our mother has been killed by some asshole that's still going strong and on whom we finally, thanks to the Novaks, have a fucking clue as to where he might be, and we got a real shot at killing him here. That's what we _owe_ Mom, and Dad is only right in wanting to stop the bastard. You wanna take a guess at how many other people he might've killed in the meantime? How many he's gonna kill if we don't stop him? We gotta put an end to this, for Mom, for Dad, for you and Jess, and that's what we're gonna do."

"Yeah? Sounds _real_ nice and all, but what about you?"

Dean narrowed his eyes, in a display of an anger he could already give way to resignation. "That'll be the end of it for me, too. Michael's what I'm gonna get, and that's fine by me."

The pain was evident in Sam's puppy dog eyes and in the way he pretty much looked like he wanted to go up to Dean, put him out of Castiel's embrace and hug him close to his bear chest, but instead, he only flinched and remained silent. Dean thought he maybe ought to feel bad, but really, that's how it was gonna be, and sure, Dean might have gotten not the best end out of them all, but still not as bad as their father, let alone their mother. So he didn't get to feel bad. Except for the thing with Cas, all of this was actually pretty great, because Dad could finally move on and do whatever he wanted to and Sam and Jess would have so many resources and knowledge at hand, they'd be nothing but happy. And maybe, the chest in his pain every time Dean thought of his mother, with her adoring hands and loving kisses, would finally stop.

It was a small sacrifice, and Dean was glad to be the one able to make it. Not Dad, not Sam, not Jess. Just him.

Castiel, way too tenderly, stroked his fingers under Dean's chin and lifted it up, leaving Dean with no choice but to look into his pain-plagued eyes and to accept his gentle kiss.

"I will go through this with you, Dean. If this is what you consider the end of your journey, I will remain by your side. I will not leave you."

Even though he'd never admit to it, Dean choked up. And maybe his eyes got a little misty — the air around here was a bit dry, after all. Maybe his hands clutched Castiel's black clothing a little tighter. Like, yeah, his true mate just promised to stay with him, although he's just been married to his brother and will never be his. No big deal. Probably happens every day. Sure as hell warranted Dean's reaction.

"Cas," Dean croaked out.

Castiel pressed another soft kiss to his lips, with the tiniest of smiles on them.

"Uh," Sam coughed out. "Not like I wanna ruin the moment or anything, but we still gotta get packed up. I'll leave you guys to this, but remember that you have a job to do as well. Uhm, better get moving, then." His splutter came to a sudden end and his voice turned unexpectedly serious and stricken. "But just so you know, you should see that this is nothing you should or could do. You just said that you have your own promises to uphold, and maybe you should start seeing that those exclude whatever you are doing right now."

The two of them ignored him and continued sharing kisses for a few moments. The sound of Sam's clothes ruffling and his steps resounding through the corridor, getting more quiet were what finally snapped Dean out of it, and he put his hands on Castiel's chest — which was way too warm and inviting — and pushed him away from himself. Castiel squinted in confusion but let himself be moved without any resistance. He probably would have put up more of a fight had Sam still been around.

After putting enough of a distance between them, Dean slumped against the wall. The heat and pressure Castiel had formerly provided seemed to withdraw, and he already missed having someone to literally keep him upright. He ran a hand over his face and sighed. Sam's words finally sunk in.

"Dean…" Castiel's voice was as delectable as ever, but right now, Dean really didn't need to hear it — especially not if what he said was his name.

"He's right." Dean swallowed heavily. "We can't do this. We can't do this during the journey, we can't do this ever again."

The silence was as heavy as he'd expected. Dean let his gaze rove over the form of the man he'd very much like to be manhandled and kissed and rutted against by, but he knew that as soon as he'd let those thoughts wander any further, there was no coming back. Again. He has had understood and accepted — or so he had presumed — that he was Michael's during the ceremony. He had actually believed that he could stay away from Cas, even if they were alone for even so much as a second, and that he wouldn't give in to his instincts like an animal on the loose the first chance he'd be given. Well, clearly he had been wrong. The very moment Castiel had laid a hand on him, he had been lost. He couldn't staved off his kisses and touches even if he'd truly wanted to, which meant that this was dangerous. Any vicinity would mean that he'd easily be ready to break and give in. Even now, after having some rational thinking instilled into him by his brother — and still having the decidedly unsexy scent of him lingering behind — he'd totally be willing to go another round if Cas just so much as indicate he'd want to as well.

Unfortunately, the swollen and bright pink lips, his tousled hair and the goddamn hard-on he still very visibly sported were a rather good indicator for him being up — heh — for some more.

This was really fucking distracting. He really didn't wanna go into a triggered Heat right now.

"You know that. We can't do this again," he reiterated.

Castiel's face morphed into a deep frown. He looked like he wanted to object and maybe tell Dean about how it may be good for both of them to fuck right here and right now, but he didn't say anything. Probably because he, by now, too, understood what Sam and his very own promise had implied about honouring Dean's duties as much as his own. It had seemed that they both had understood that they couldn't possibly do what they wanted to, but their words and decisions seemed to have been as moot as Dean's own resolved to stay loyal to Michael. Both of them probably weren't exactly poster children for staying true to their goals.

He suddenly felt very disillusioned. It had been easy to forget the reality of their situation when he had felt Castiel's body and lips against his own, but, without any warning, it all came crashing down. How hopeless and gruesome everything really was, despite Castiel's sweet words and touches. Despite Dean wishing it were different.

"Cas," Dean half-stated, half-asked into the silence when the silence still found no end.

Upon Dean's calling out for his true mate, Castiel slightly shook his head and spoke up again. "You vowed yourself to me. Before, at the ceremony." His voice was one of wonder.

Dean flushed bright red and immediately steeled his posture again. "No, I vowed myself to Michael." His name tasted sharp between them.

Castiel pursed his lips just so and regarded Dean with an admonishing gaze. "You looked at me. You said those words to me. Even your brother has come to the same conclusion, without having known about the true nature of our relationship beforehand."

Dean pressed his lips into a tight line and shook his head, still blushing furiously. Of course, Castiel was right, but he had expected him to simply accept what had happened, understood that those words were meant for him, but that he'd forever keep his silence about this, much like Michael, who had ignored his vow. That Sammy had picked up on it had not been part of the plan, but the kid's smart, so maybe Dean should've seen that one coming. In either case, he knew Sam wouldn't tell Dad, which meant one less worry, but for Castiel to know and actually voice it was a whole 'nother story.

"I vowed myself to Michael," he said, attempting to sound cold. He probably succeeded, going by the way Castiel squinted at him even more than before.

"I don't agree."

That actually made Dean angry. What about their unspoken conclusion about the fact that they can't change shit but simply would accept it? "So what? Cas, even if I _did_ vow myself to you, it means _shit_. I am officially property of Michael now, fucking regardless of whether you and I agree with it. Him and Dad have signed the documents, the treaty's done, I was given to Michael in some weird and useless ritual, yadda-yadda, we'll both stow in our juices forever, because _it doesn't matter_. We can be lucky if Michael's not gonna do anything about the petty little stunt I pulled, because I'm still his bitch now, and that's that."

The deep, angry rumble coming from Castiel probably shouldn't have surprised him, really. "You're not _his_ , Dean."

"Except I fucking am!"

"No, you're not."

"What am I, then? _Yours?_ "

"As much as I am yours," Castiel growled, and that really shouldn't have been as sexy as it was to Dean. Still, something deep and primal inside of him felt satisfied with this declaration of mutual belonging. "But still not as much as you are your own."

Dean didn't know what to say or do except press out some air between his gnashed teeth.

"I told you that I would accept our duties as they are, but if you are so unwilling to uphold them that instead of vowing yourself to my brother, you vow yourself to me, I can't help but feel the need to do anything to absolve you of those duties," Castiel continued, though his attempt at holding up a neutral voice was decidedly betrayed by the smell of anger coming from him, as much as his features that, despite the twilight they were in, spoke of hurt and longing. "If you tell me you will stay by my side and care for me and love me until death, then turn around and have me see how Michael kisses you like a possession he now owns, and then you explain to me that this and nothing more is exactly what you are, what do you expect me to do?" He suddenly sounded very small. "If it's your duty to take care of your family, it is also my duty as your mate to take care of you."

Dean let out a deep sigh and felt just as tired and hopeless as he did when he left the chapel. "No, it isn't, Cas. Because that's exactly it. You're not my mate, and I'm not yours. That's just how it is."

Castiel tightly clenched his hands into fists and averted his gaze. His long eyelashes cast a shadow over the blue of his eyes.

"I still don't agree."

"Yeah, well."

"But I said that I'll stay by your side, that I will support you. I will. And I will follow your lead, Dean."

Dean's eyebrows shot up at that. "You will?" There was no disappointment beneath the relief, nope, none at all.

Castiel made a motion much like an abortioned nod, but nothing more. "We shouldn't keep your father waiting." There was a hint of badly disguised contempt in his voice — Dean wanted to call him out for it, but couldn't blame him in the end, really, as much as he hated himself for not defending his family. His actions just moments before spoke too loudly about how he was already a bad son, so there was no need for him to pretend he didn't feel some contempt as well, as tiny and hidden and punished it was. "We need to saddle the horses. Your father was very anxious for them to be readied in time."

Oh, crap, the horses. Dean had completely forgotten about them; his dad had already been pissed off as is when he they were in the chapel, Dean didn't wanna know what he was gonna be like now that it was unlikely for them to be done on time, even with two people. They couldn't afford any questions, drawing any more suspicions to themselves than they already did.

Dean gestured at the rather close end of the narrow, half-lit corridor they were in, trying to get Cas moving. He didn't dare make the first step and to maybe, accidentally brush against his mate — nor did he want to have Cas behind him. While, in a way, he did, he'd hope for him to draw him back from behind and shield him from the light of the other corridors and from the reality of their situation with words and kisses. Which was simply not possible. Because he could never refuse Castiel's touch, not when it was already upon him. "Let's get a move on, then."

Castiel finally looked up at him again — or more like, stared —, taking in Dean's face. The Omega didn't know what he was looking for, shuffling a bit under the scrutiny, but Cas was apparently satisfied enough with what he found to straighten his posture and stop the little swaying that seemed like he wanted to return into Dean's personal space. He took a deep breath through his mouth and let all those little outward signs of anxiety and anger fall away, until all that was left was the blank expression he always wore whenever Dean was observing him from afar.

Dean didn't like that.

"Yes, let us saddle the horses," he agreed. But instead of stepping away, he lingered close to Dean in this small space and held his breath, as did Dean.

They stared at each other for just that one moment longer, taking in the carefully schooled features and searching eyes and the overwhelming scent still enriched with traces of arousal and restless need, until they finally broke away.

*

They didn't manage to get the horses ready in time, of course. John had been visibly pissed off, but said nothing when Castiel, Dean and a few of the guards who had tended to their horses themselves finally rode out to the front of the manor where Dean's family along with Michael, Anna and two more guards, both female and standing close to Anna, waited. It was easy to assume that John wasn't exactly keen on verbally thrashing the Omega their patron was now officially married to, and Castiel was pretty much out of his jurisdiction anyway. At least for the time being; Dean was sure John wouldn't handle him with kid gloves once they were out and about.

Michael's gaze calmly followed Dean the moment they had left the stables and didn't leave him when they closed up to the others ones who had their luggage sitting beside them. Jess was holding a bunch of weapons, some blades, some guns, and she weighed them in her hands like babies. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, she had shouldered her crossbow and she was clad in the dark, slightly raddled, figure-hugging fashion typical for the Wastelands; she was ready for this journey. She smiled when she started handing both Castiel and Dean a gun, a blade and a heavy wire each, then started heaving up part of their luggage. "Now that everyone's armored, let's get a move on." She tilted her head towards Michael. "I'm sure it's in everyone's best interest if we get out of your hair."

Michael smiled flatly. "Not at all. You're welcome to stay as long as you like, if that is what you want. But as I understand, Mr. Winchester would prefer to see and end to his mission. And I…" His smile widened, but instead of gaining warmth or anything the like, it just seemed to lack even more joy. "I cannot wait to complete the ceremony that binds our families together and will allow for a brighter future for us as well as the Wastelands. The resurrection of those superior skill sets we posses will undoubtedly bring along new hope for the human race."

Dean began to wonder what exactly the emotions Michael possessed were, as he seemed to be lacking in any positive ones. Even the ceremony, something he might have found as ridiculous as Dean did but still resulted in a great benefit for the Novaks, couldn't tingle out some genuine smile. It was a bit terrifying to think that below the surface he might be just as cool as his exterior let on. That someone he was who was just as efficient and rigid as the big machines that had been keeping alive the big cities in the Old Days. Because that was who Dean was now married to, and he'd be in his responsibility, body and mind, for the rest of his days once their journey ended.

John nodded and spoke with a big voice while re-tightening the saddle girth. "We'll see. But you can be sure we'll be done as soon as possible. I'm afraid Dean here is sick of the road by now."

Dean frowned. He never had said anything the like, and it wasn't even true. "That's not—"

"He'll welcome having a stable home then," Michael mused.

"Yeah. I don't blame him, though; it's probably in his nature or something."

"Ah, yes, from what I have read about our ancestors, this could be very possible indeed. The need to have a safe and stable environment, especially when bred, appears to be inherit to Omegas." He scrutinized Dean, who now slumped in his seat, leaning away from the conversation and just slightly, pathetically towards Castiel, who had been dangerously silent throughout this. Michael smiled anew. "Your home will wait for you when you come back, my beloved Omega." His eyes drifted towards Castiel. "And you, brother. Please take care of my husband for me, to the whole extent of your possibilities. Until I will."

Dean really fucking hoped that the snarl that escaped Castiel was too low and too quiet to hear where Michael stood.

Michael did nothing to indicate that he'd heard or hadn't, he just fired off a quick farewell to John and his sister, wished them safe travels and then stood back. The smile did not leave his face for the whole time he watched them getting ready.

*

Anna, an Alpha and apparently the only woman of this generation of Novaks, rode out in front of the group, alongside John. It had been decided that the two of them would be the ones leading — not just in terms of whose horse was where — but that most of the decision-making would fall to them. Even though this was John's mission, Michael obviously thought it wouldn't be wrong to have another person, someone who's also a Novak and who would have the family's best interest in mind, in for the ride. Looking at how proud and unyielding Anna already appeared when just sitting atop her horse, it was most likely prudent to say she'd take no shit from John and act in stead of the head of the family. Dean didn't want to think too much about that Castiel was deemed unfit to take on that role.

Behind Anna and John came Sam and Jess, though both of them tended to break away from the group every now and then in order to scout the vicinity for any mutated creatures or vicious human beings. Adam and Samandriel, according to Cas the youngest Novak, usually took the married couple's place then, trying to look as grim as their baby faces and slight statures allowed them to, if they weren't caught up in light and pleasant conversation. Dean wasn't in front, unlike what he was used to, but came behind even the younger boys, and he was surrounded by those guards that weren't circling the group in indefinite patterns. Castiel, denounced to be barely more than a guard or an easy shield for protecting the precious Omega, stayed close to him.

Dean couldn't help but feel glad for this. Castiel's face, as usual graced by a small frown, didn't tell much about if he'd have preferred to ride next to John. Then again, going from the way he had spoken about John, Dean guessed he was happy enough to be in the back, as well.

"Hey," Dean stage-whispered, "you alright, Cas?"

Castiel's gaze flitted to him just shortly, then to the guards around them — they obviously didn't care for their conversation, seemed content enough to yawn and trod along, but that didn't mean they'd keep quiet if Cas and Dean didn't watch their mouths.

"Yes. I am just not used to sitting on the back of a horse, or leaving the manor at all, for that matter," Castiel replied diplomatically.

"I thought you guys were all about travelling the continent, gaining information, that kinda family business?"

"Well, we are. The others, that is. I am not good with people, and I believe Michael doesn't trust me enough to travel in the name of the Novaks, so I usually stay at home and manage the information my siblings provide and account the goods and taxes of all our employees and the like."

Dean raised an eyebrow at that. So Michael's distrust for Cas was nothing new, huh? He'd have to ask more about that later, but it probably wasn't that good a topic now, given the company.

"Sounds real interesting," Dean said sarcastically.

Castiel squinted at him. "You may think so, but it isn't. There are some days I find myself very interested in the particular transactions and trade routes and taxes that have been founded through my family. But instead of just reading about them and calculating them, I'd like to see them as well." The smile on his pink lips was almost shy, and so soft that it was a private thing for only Dean to see. It made Dean's heart melt despite the overwhelming evidence that his true mate was a huge nerd. "I was intrigued when I was told that I could come along on this journey, as much as I was… um…" He glanced at the guards idly riding nearby, but Dean understood without him saying out loud why there reasons he wasn't exactly thrilled with accompanying his brother's husband slash his own true mate on a journey anytime and at all, but specifically not now and not with the aim of killing a bastard and then losing Dean definitely afterwards.

Dean tried to smile back at him, but it probably came out a bit weak. "Yeah, no, I get it." He shoved his hips for- and backwards in his saddle, just to keep his horse on track. Castiel appeared undecided whether to keep his eyes on the movement or not. He blushed slightly. Dean felt a bit too smug. "Are you the only one doing the organizing?"

"For the most part I am. Sometimes, Samandriel helps me out as well and I think that he'd like to take up further organizing tasks in the future, but most of it falls to me. Not just the taxes and the trade, but also matters around the manor and its inhabitants."

Dean thought about this. "Also personal stuff?"

"Yes, that as well."

"Like the ceremony?"

Castiel flushed and pointedly stared at the back of his horse's head. "Yes."

It was rather obvious that Cas wasn't too keen on talking about the ceremony — Dean couldn't blame him —, but Dean still wondered about this weird play he had to have been part of. Michael, too, for that matter, as he didn't seem all that thrilled and rather glad to get it over with. Also, Dean thought that the ceremony was a safe topic while still surrounded by guards, unlike several other things he'd like to have asked Cas or whispered into his ear. So he settled on asking questions that hopefully weren't too upsetting for his true mate. "What was that about, anyway? I knew that some people still practice some stuff from the Old Days, but they at least seem to believe in that kinda shit? Apart from the old guy maybe, that really didn't seem to be the case?"

Castiel slowly petted his horse's neck. "Michael doesn't believe in any deities, only in the hard work of our family, especially in what our father created with the routes in the Wasteland and the jobs around the manor. They are the ones whose portraits are being shown in the chapel, and Michael refuses to even pretend to think of any being higher than them. With the ceremony, he wanted to honour our ancestors' traditions, so he made me research meticulously what they practiced and how they did it. I had commissioned the rings being made." He huffed out a breath as if he couldn't believe how fate decided to mock him and punch him in the face with his own hard work.

Dean was a bit put off himself, because this meant that because of some shit-ass tradition to pander to the Novaks' dead ancestors, that Cas had to research, Michael had kissed Dean before Castiel did. Sure, they had kissed by now, too, pretty thoroughly, if Dean might add, but it still sucked to know that the first Novak to touch him was that asshole Michael. Worse yet, he would probably also be the last Novak to touch him.

"Huh," Dean only said, because he really didn't know how else to respond.

"I-if I had known—," Castiel began, but didn't get far with Dean interrupting him.

"Shh, Cas!" Dean fixed him with a stern glance. "Don't beat yourself up over, uh, the rings. I know I have told you they are a bit bland, but they're fine, really. Don't go saying 'if I had known' cause you couldn't have, y'know, known. Nothing to be done about that. I'm just being annoying, it's not your fault. Everything's a-okay."

"Dean…"

"If it's bothering you that much, we can take another look at them once we're back. But not right now. Capiche?"

Castiel sighed. "Yes, I capiche. I won't bring it up again."

"That's good. Now, let's concentrate on the road. We've met some nasty creatures on our way here. Wouldn't wanna get attacked while we're busy chit-chatting about rings." He let out a strained laugh.

Castiel sighed again. "That would be unpreferable indeed."

Dean felt bad for how he had cut him off, but as long as they were not alone — and who knew if they'd even get the change to have a moment in private during this journey — there was no way to speak openly. Castiel seemed to have troubles keeping a filter on what he said, and Dean was actually afraid of what he might say if he got carried away in the moment. No, it was best to act as if they were nothing but strangers, acquaintances at best, as not to evoke any more suspicions, and as an exercise for their future life.

Dean focused his gaze on the hostile Wastelands stretching out in front of them.

 


	5. So Close That Your Eyes Close As I Fall Asleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me quite some time to post this chapter, huh? Especially when you take into consideration that there is little to no plot in here, and just fluff. (Then again, that's true for the whole story, really. I never told you, but I consider this fic my little self-indulgment project that keeps me from working on my original stuff. It's probably pretty obvious, but eh, it's not like I pretend this was anything more than DeanCas pining and John(+Michael) hating, lol. I'm a simple girl.)
> 
> Chapter title has been taken from Pablo Neruda's XVII'th sonnet, because it's beautiful and befitting.

Travelling never seemed so exhausting before. 

Dean was used to roaming the Wastelands, never having some fixed point to come back to — which was fine by him, always had been, because what he considered his home was his family, and as long as they were with him, there was nothing for him to wish for. But now everything seemed different, and it was rather obvious that this was entirely because of their company. These last few years, the Winchesters barely if ever picked up another person to travel or hunt along with, and only for a clearly set and rather short period of time, but not for an amount that might very well stretch into a couple of weeks or months, with the goal to follow those leads on the bastard who had killed Mary Winchester. According to John and pretty much everyone else, they should get done quickly, what with the extensive web of information the Novaks had all over the rotten continent. This was, after all, why Dean had been mated to Michael, and despite all his faults, John probably wouldn't have accepted this deal hadn't he thought that they would finally close in on Yellow-Eyes through this.

Everyone seemed pretty optimistic in general, which was nice; after years upon years of their fruitless searching, Dean was glad to see some spark back in their eyes. John, because he could finally take revenge for the woman he loved above everything in this world, sat up higher and straighter on his horse, and even Sam and Jess appeared driven yet more lighthearted. Adam, who'd always been a bit introverted and humbled by his other blood family members' traits, finally had found some companion of — literally — his own size with that one of Cas's brothers whose name Dean couldn't come up with because it was even more ridiculous than Castiel's itself. He had taken to calling him Alfie in his mind.

Dean smiled and petted his horse as they rode on towards the first village they knew of, their first rest stop on the way. It was already dawning, but they could have rode on for surely some more hours if it wouldn't have been for the Novaks who had demanded to sleep within the safety of fortified houses as much as possible. Dean suspected it had also to do with him, but he was more annoyed about not being able to sleep beneath the stars and that they would cover less way because of that — they had a job to do, after all. Moreover, they had been doing this job for many years now, and it seemed stupid and over-cautious to start squatting in safe houses now. Sure, Dean was an Omega, but he had been one all his life, and he'd made it until now without dying, obviously, so there was no reason to this. 

Dean frowned and tried to concentrate on the horizon, where there should the village in sight shortly. A tiny chuckle from his left side broke his futile concentration.

With furrowed eyebrows, he looked at Castiel, who eyed his face with a soft smile.

"Something funny?" Dean tried to sound pissed off, but the smile on his true mate's face made it more than difficult not to have a smile of his own tugging on the corners of his mouth. He couldn't help if his mood turned awesome the moment he looked at Castiel and knew that his true mate was fine and safe and in good spirits — this probably was a completely normal reaction, caused by his animalistic instincts, and surely not because Dean was a huge sap whose heart grew warmer whenever he looked at Cas.

"I apologize, Dean, but I couldn't hold back. Watching the way your face changes when you're in thinking is delightful." If anything was delightful, it was Castiel's smile bordering on a grin, so Dean tried to tell him.

"Y-you are delightful," he shot back, embarrassed, in his attempt to return the compliment and insult him at the same time. Way to go Winchester, what a real poet you are.

Castiel eyed him carefully, his smile not abating. "Thank you, Dean." The tone of his voice and the pure delight on his face let on that he might have actually thought those words to be poetic or anything, at least not the stammered non-sense they were.

Dean simply had to look away, because between looking at Castiel's face and the low-set sun they were riding into, the sun was the less blinding option. He petted his horse once again, spurring it on with a simple press of his legs against his flanks and pressed his lips into a line as not to smile himself.

He was so fucking whipped.

*

The differences to how they usually travelled didn't stop with their slower pace, though.

As the Novaks had demanded, they had entered the village instead of setting up camp somewhere in the desert by the end of the first day of their journey. With the sun set, they rode to the inn where the Novaks wanted to stop off, and the people working there were remarkably kinder than usual. Apparently, around these parts, still not far from the Novak's manor, Anna and Castiel's faces were recognized on first sight, and the whole demeanor, contrary to what Dean was used to, changed for the better. The workers of the inn smiled widely, greeted the group and immediately offered their best rooms. That is, they offered to kick out the people who were already staying in most of the rooms, because the establishment was a rather small one, and packed at that, but they didn't even for a second appear to wanting to kick the travel group out of there. Dean immediately offered to simply share a room with the rest of his family, as he was used to, but Anna looked at him disapprovingly and Castiel shook his head.

"No, that is not going to happen." Castiel turned towards the inn keeper, a woman in her mid-thirties, with long dark locks and wearing sunglasses despite it being past nightfall and they were indoors — Dean guessed that she was blind, although he felt watched by her, which was a bit unnerving. She  looked at Castiel with eyebrows raised in expectation. "This is my— brother's, Michael's, mate, and he and his family should receive all the comfort they could ask for. Um, at the behest of the Novaks. Which is why I am very sorry to impose on you, but I'd kindly ask you to clear enough rooms for them to sleep in, and some space in your yard for us remaining ones to make camp."

"Hey, that's really not necessary, man," Dean interrupted. "It's fine, we have a system worked out for who sleeps where and when, really, don't worry about it." Their system was a game passed on from the Old Days; a fight of wit, aptitude and destiny, carried out with their hands, twisted into skillful gestures. John never participated, though, he chose freely, but between Sam, Jess, Adam and Dean, many a great battles have been fought.

John agreed. "There is no need for this. My sons and Jessica are as used to sleeping outside as I am. That includes Dean as well, in case Michael told you anything different."

"Michael would deem it unacceptable to have you sleep in anything but the softest cushions and the safest space. I agree with Castiel — please clear some rooms," Anna intervened.

John narrowed his eyes at the redhead, with whom he had been riding up front all day. Dean guessed that they were equals, Anna assigned by Michael, his father making a trade with the head of the Novaks and so being dependent on him, yet John still disliked anyone ignoring his orders — though those orders were probably more like instructions in the presence of Anna. "As I said, there is no need."

Anna seemed entirely unfazed by the faint growl in his voice. She was an Alpha, as well, but struck Dean as one who was rather levelheaded. Up to a certain point, that is, from which on she'd be absolutely terrifying. "I know, Mr. Winchester. But there is also no need for you to sleep outside as long as we can prevent it. We will have to rest in the desert inevitably, but we should conserve our energy and take what we can get for the time being. Especially the guards who will take up night watch. And Dean, who Michael specifically instructed to be taken care of."

Dean shuddered as he thought back on how, moments before they had started their journey, Michael had come up to Dean's horse. He had still held that smile and had started running his hands up over Dean's arms until they reached his face, so gentle as if he was fine china, had stroked a strand of hair back, cupped his face with his cold fingers and pressed his lips against Dean's like a lover's benediction. It had been the complete opposite to how he had kissed him during the ceremony, but Dean couldn't say that he'd preferred the latter. He had counted on Michael treating him with a professional coldness, not with passion, not with care. That wasn't what they were nor what they'd ever be, and it made Dean sick to his stomach. Especially because not once did Michael seem to really look at him, even if his ice-blue eyes were fixed on him. Dean felt like hanging on loose strings, not knowing how Michael viewed him, what he thought about him, how to predict his next move. All he knew was that, despite those touches speaking of passion and care, they never felt real. As if he tried different angles, searched himself what he liked to do to Dean, while the Omega would always have to take what was given. There was no difference between a porcelain doll, a sex doll, or an incubator to him, it seemed.

Before Michael had finally let go of him, he had breathed the nickname he'd only taken up in mockery before against Dean's lips,  "Beloved."

The inn keeper looked over Anna in appreciation when she spoke, but only shrugged towards Castiel. "Anything for the Novaks," she said, almost lacking the expected amount of sarcasm, though the slightest hint slid through, "and their…  mates ?" She only now seemed to come to think on this. "Is this mate business about those traits you guys inherited? About being like a bunch of wolves, or something? So this one, this mate," she made a hand gesture towards Dean, "is what exactly? An 'Alpha'? No wait, you Novaks are all Alphas, no? So, he's one of those Omega types? I thought Omegas were like women and can bear children and all that?" Her eyes, still hidden behind sunglasses, seemed to roam over Dean, who had begun to tense under the amount of attention suddenly directed at him. "Don't look very female to me." She grinned as if pleased, but not by the insulting nature of her words — and Dean wasn't too sure how insulting she wanted to be — but as if she was pretty happy about Dean's build and ability to bear children and what she could see with or without her eyes.

Dean really didn't know whether to like or dislike her.

But Castiel had made up his mind about that, taking half a step in front of Dean, and while Dean couldn't see his face, he could smell the faint beginnings of Cas getting pissed off and hear the deep rumble of his voice. "All of this is, without a doubt, nothing that concerns you in any way. So, if you could please prepare the rooms instead of studying my— Michael's mate like you'd have any right to, that would be greatly appreciated. We have another long day ahead of us and no time to waste." The  on someone like you stayed unsaid but clearly implicated.

With the way the whole face of the inn keeper changed, Dean would very much have liked to have been able to see what face Cas must have made in that moment, or what she could perceive, what with how she suddenly, even physically, backed off, raising her hands in a placating gesture and losing the playful attitude from before. Still, she kept her non-gaze fixed on Castiel, the slightest smile twisting her lips, as if she now knew something that was even better to her than taking pleasure in whatever she had liked about Dean. A new-found revelation, as if she was quietly mocking and applauding Castiel at the same time. "I'll try to put all of you inside, if I can. Many of the patrons are just slackers who live around here anyway and are just too lazy or too drunk to go home for the night. I can easily kick 'em out, don't worry."

"Thank you," Castiel replied tersely.

"Right." She stepped out from behind the counter, grinning at Dean one last time, and headed towards the stairs to the first floor while everyone else just remained standing. Dean sighed on the inside. This was going to be a very long journey indeed.

*

Dean had lost the game. 

Fuck their system to figure out who sleeps where. For some reason unknown to him, Sam was always able to anticipate which gesture he'd make, and in the end, he always lost. Against Adam, too, and he probably would have against Jess as well, but she usually shared Sam's sleeping space as long as he got one big enough for the two of them, so Dean was the clear loser out of all of them. 

Which meant that he had ended up the in the tiny little chamber in which there was barely more space than for a simple cot and a small table with a lit candle on it to fit in. He really did wonder how the inn keeper could even dare to call this fucking cell anything even akin to a room and rent it out for actual, real-world bottle caps. 

But here Dean was, taking the measly place of some poor soul who should have slept in here instead of him. He was doing that person a service, really, but still felt bad about robbing someone off their place to sleep — not that he'd have much of a say in that matter. Of course, Castiel wanted him to have a room with four walls instead of a tent, and it would have been suspicious and actually very careless had any of the Novaks allowed Dean to sleep outside if there was no absolute and inevitable reason for that at hand, but still. He just hoped that the inn keeper hadn't lied about those other patrons having places to sleep apart from this one, and that none of them would have to take the places the guards had offered to take, in the yard. The guards, too, had gotten rooms to sleep in, and all of them conveniently and surely not coincidentally surrounded the rooms the Winchesters were in. But Dean was too tired to complain about that, and if he was being honest with himself, he was really glad to have a somewhat soft and warm place to sleep. After all, the day had been long and exhausting, beginning with that ridiculous ceremony and ending with those tiring last yards to the village, and he just wanted to be alone — if he couldn't sleep in Castiel's arms — and have some room to think and relax. And sleep. Especially sleep.

A quiet knock on his door interrupted his thoughts.

"Yeah?" he answered just as quietly, already a bit coarse as if he had been halfway asleep without noticing.

The door opened, and back-lit by the many candles stationed inside the corridor, a familiar dark thatch of hair appeared and the sweetest of smells filled the room.

"Cas," Dean whispered hotly, "what are you doing here?"

Castiel closed the door behind himself with great care, eliciting just the smallest of noises when it clicked into place. He stared at Dean who was illuminated by his single candle's light and who was sitting in bed with only his gray, soft underclothes on. Wearing even as little as this was a real treat, as he was used to sleeping in his full attire, his weapons equipped and ready for action, but now with Castiel's gaze flitting over his body, in an obvious attempt not to do so, he felt a bit exposed. At the same time, he wouldn't have minded to lose even more clothing, but only under the condition of Cas doing so, too.

"I share the room next door with two of the male guards and offered to go and see whether you needed anything." He smiled softly, proud of his non-suspicious method to get to Dean.

Dean soaked up his every twitch and softening of his features, swallowing heavily. "I'm good."

"Are you sure? Is there nothing you need?"

"Well, maybe one thing, but…"

"But?" Castiel gently coaxed.

"Uh, you know. Nothing I could have." He looked pointedly at Castiel, who closed that small distance between the door and the head of the bed in three steps. Delicately, he laid his hand on Dean's shoulder closest to him. "Nothing I should wanna have."

Castiel stroked his fingertips over the bare skin, and maybe Dean should have opted to keeping all of his clothes on, because even this small contact felt like being burnt in the best of ways.

"Unfortunately, I do understand. And I haven't come to take you away in the night and flee with you, though I would do so if you wanted to." His features were as soft as his touch. "I just wanted to wish you a pleasant sleep and…" It might have been only the dancing light of the candle, but Castiel seemed to blush. "Hug you good-night."

This was so unexpected and ridiculous and childish and innocent, and it made Dean blush so fucking furiously. "Cas…"

"I promise, I have no other goal in mind, not one, Dean, you have to believe me. But during our ride, I realized how much I want to touch you and be near you, how much I would love to hold you, but I know how difficult this is." He took a shaking breath. "I cannot say how well I would be able to hold back in the future and how much it would ruin me if I won't be allowed to touch you even for a few seconds, maybe every few days or every week or just some time every now and then." He breathed out again, stressed. "This is no attempt at blackmailing you to accept my touch or anything, just a request. You don't have to allow me any kind of contact, not even give me a reason if you choose against it, and I will promise not to endanger the treaty or our promise, but I just… Dean, I just need to feel you. If even for a short moment. I know I should be stronger, but seeing you all day, smelling you, knowing that I couldn't possibly close the distance…" He closed his eyes, his features twisting in withheld pain, much like his voice, even less audible than before when he whispered, "Please…"

That was the last straw.

Dean, much like Castiel, hadn't expected his own violent reaction; how he scrambled at Castiel's clothes, clawing at them and forcefully yanking him over the edge of the bed, making him slump onto it and over his Omega's soft yet strong body, and into Dean's arms, encasing Castiel in a strong, desperate grip.

Castiel said nothing, just exhaled loudly and reciprocated by putting his arms around Dean and pulling them that last inch fully against each other.

They breathed in tandem, deep, the smell of each other hanging full and familiar in the air, nuzzling each other's necks to get to the rich source of it. Despite their positions, they didn't move their hips against each other or even searched for the kisses that were only a inches away waiting for them, they just enjoyed the weight and feel and scent of another.

Dean breathed out deeply, letting go of tension he hadn't even noticed had been straining his body before.

Castiel gently played with the hair at the nape of Dean's neck, not going as far as to properly card his hands through his whole hair, though. They relaxed against each other, for a few moments, taking deep breaths and involuntarily — or maybe voluntarily but unconsciously — rubbing their scent over each other. Until Dean's thoughts started drifting, not even necessarily towards Castiel, simply in the way that happened when deeply relaxed and on the verge of sleep, revolving around the next few days, where their travels would take them, what he shouldn't forget about, which weapons he would have to clean the next days and how he should remind the guards to buy some better protection for their faces against the heat — they only covered their eyes with tinted glasses, whereas they should have put cloth over their whole faces, and then wear those glasses as well.

It was obvious that the guards weren't used to being out in the desert sun for too long, so that they couldn't care less if they got a little sunburnt. But if they kept this up, they'd be aching and dehydrated and unable to move on by the end of the next few days. Dean knew that they were old enough to know for themselves what to do, but they were so reckless and inexperienced that Dean couldn't help but feel responsible for them. After all, it wasn't their fault that their employer, Michael, was such an asshat, and not only were they here to protect Dean, but they could help Cas as well. Yeah, Dean thought, he liked that they could protect Castiel if he couldn't, so it was only fair that Dean helped them protect themselves from the sun, and Cas as well and… mhh… He yawned, blinking sleepily against the gravitation that wanted him to close his eyes.

It was difficult to fight against falling asleep when he felt all warm and safe, but he tried. He forced his eyes open, but it was hard.

The pad of Castiel's thumb ghosted over Dean's cheekbones. "I probably should get back," he said with a sigh, stroking the freckled skin, "even if there had been anything you would have needed, I would have gotten it by now. And you are tired."

"You did. Get me what I needed," Dean mumbled. As embarrassing as those words were, seeing Castiel's face light up was totally worth uttering them.

"Thank you, Dean."

"Don't mention it."

"I will wake you in the morning. If you'd find it acceptable, maybe we could…" he tapered off, and Dean was glad not to be the only one to be shy about all this.

"… hug again?"

"Yes," Castiel, breathed out, relieved.

Dean smiled at that, though it was a task that was made more difficult by the sleep drawing nearer. "Sure thing, Cas."

Castiel looked way too happy for someone who's just been told that he'd get a hug or two every day, but then again, Dean could really, really relate. Kissing was not on the table, let alone sex, or any kind of expression of affection that would have overstepped the boundaries a regular friendship would have set, as that would have been the highest level they would have been allowed to reach. How pathetic, when Dean had just, in the morning, decided that he'd try to stay away from Cas as far as possible. Yet this one single day had already shown him that this would not have been possible, that it was an avoidable strain to not allow any touch. That being strangers hurt, that being acquaintances hurt, that being friends might not hurt as much. And maybe, they shouldn't even think that acting like friends would have been alright and totally hazard-free, but at the same time, Dean understood Castiel's notion about having some kind of physical contact and emotional closeness. Dean had already considered stealing as much touch as he could here and there, and Castiel's proposal with the hugs was probably a good solution to what might have turned out to be a problem. Because if they didn't even get this small piece of contact, chances were, they'd lose it some day. Maybe they'd go all crazy and babbling, maybe they'd start fucking roughly in front of their families, but case in point, there was no way to smell and see their mate on a daily basis and do nothing about it. So they'd keep their touches as friendly as possible.

Some secret and quiet part of Dean's mind told him that this would be impossible. But what would have been the alternative? Yes, he was painfully aware of each place where their skin touched and Castiel's touch was searing and addicting, but he hoped that his body and mind would stop burning if he was only exposed to Castiel often enough. He'd go up in flames eventually anyway, if he shied away from all contact.

It was a dilemma, in a way, but Dean was too tired and relaxed and felt too safe to linger on it any longer. What he knew, even while his mind got hazy and his body limp, was that his mate was with him, one arm still slung around his waist and studying Dean as if he was trying to count his freckles and find constellations in them.

"Go to sleep, Dean," Castiel whispered, so close to him, and now would have been the time for him to get up from the bed and go back, but it took a long time for him to move from his position nestled between Dean's legs, to even pretend that he was about to do so, instead they shuffled closer to each other, sharing heat and scent, with their hands entwined and Castiel's thumb rubbing tiny little circles into Dean's skin.

"G'd night, Cas," Dean murmured, leaning into every touch and contact Castiel offered him.

Dean was fast asleep by the time Castiel had pressed a last, lingering kiss to his forehead, cautiously tucked him in and went back next door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fyi, you lost the game, too.


End file.
